Right On Your Doorstep
by thesecretsociety
Summary: The wrong place. The wrong time.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

_Don't look back._

Have you ever had the feeling that you are being watched? A pair of prying eyes specifically set on you, preying on your every move as if silently sneaking into your body, feeding on your precious soul, sucking out every piece of you, and there is nothing you can do to prevent any of it. I tug my cardigan closer to my chest and hug myself tight against the cold night breeze. I can still feel them though, those eyes tearing down my defenses. Vulnerable I am.

_Just keep going._

I urge myself to not look back. It's always a bad idea to turn your head around at times like this as taught in numerous horror movies. But that doesn't make me deaf. It doesn't numb my senses. I can still hear the eeriness of the rustling leaves and the creak of the swings as I pass by the playground with the majestic moon floating right among the smoky clouds. I can feel goosebumps all over my body, and my heartbeat racing wildly as the soft whispers land into my ears. When the sound of footsteps has come, I know tears will soon invade my eyes. So I keep going, the intervals between my steps are shorter than the last; I reckon my own shadow chasing me down the street.

_Run, Chloe! Run!_

Definitely the worst time to wear stilettos. But I keep running just the same, I don't care. Before I know it, I've slammed the front door shut then back away as far as I can, just watching the door vigilantly before me. It should protect me from any intruder, right? I should be safe from whatever danger is out there on the other side of the wooden barrier.

_Knock knock._

They resonate softly, calm and harmless, as if they originate from a concerned neighbor who is about to offer some freshly baked cookies for a midnight snack, yet I can't seem to shake off this feeling of terror inside me. As time passes by and I still refuse to open up, the knocking, thankfully, has come to a stop. Silence is loud and clear.

_Maybe it's gone._

I'm not sure though. I can barely breathe. I'm trying to exhale carbon dioxide out my mouth when the doorbell has gone off – I'm suddenly reminded of its forgotten existence.

_It's back._

My stupid self tread towards the door against the major protests in my head; curiosity is bound to get me into trouble, I guess. I slowly lean over the peephole to find no one outside. _Odd. _I cringe at my paranoia. So have I just been acting crazy all along? To affirm my findings thus, I turn the knob open with a trembling hand. I pull the door in and apparently caught unprepared; there on my doorstep is a strange woman – eyes are crimson red, tears of blood stain her cheeks, her skin scrappily weaved into her flesh, and her teeth, as she slowly grins at me, sharp and crooked, adorned with live worms and roaches. And then I hear myself scream, horrified. I scream and scream and scream... I have no idea; that's the end of it.

* * *

><p><strong>HAPPY HALLOWEEN, CRICKETS!<strong>


	2. 8:51

**_BeChloeFan01, madness2013: _**_Nice to see you again! :)_

**_kinqslanding, cricket: _**_It's not much, really..._

**_MysticFalls94, Tofu9162:_**_ You could say Halloween is my favorite time of the year. LOL._

**_Guest:_**_ Kind of want to try something different. _

_So, uh... the prologue might have misled you._

* * *

><p>CHAPTER ONE: <strong>8:51<strong>

_8:51_, the clock on my bedside table reads. I blink just a couple more times to help my eyes get accustomed to the illumination. I leisurely roll over onto my back and – _wait a minute_. What the hell happened? The woman, the creepy freak show – where is she?

"Great, you're awake."

I immediately sit up at the sound of a voice that surely did not come from me.

"Who are you?" I glare at the intruder – Miss Mystery Pretty Blonde with a taste of hipster fashion complete with dip dyed hair of the entire color wheel. "What are you doing in my house? What do you want? I'm calling the police!"

"You opened the door for me, dude," she tries to remind me something I don't recall at all, yet she does it with much conviction that I have to reconsider.

But I've never seen her before. I don't know anything about her, so why on earth would I be welcoming such a stranger into my abode? Now as if reading my mind, she rolls her eyes and sighs. _Poof_! She turns into the monstrous woman I saw on my doorstep much to my horror! _Holy shit._ I have jump out of the bed and grab on the telephone, ready to dial 911.

"Put it down," she tells me, reverting to her human form. "Trust me, it's useless."

I raise the handset to my ear against her instruction. I hear no dial tone, and she knows. She must have cut the lines. Hence, I search the room for my bag, franticly rummaging around for my mobile phone as a second option. It bothers me though, that she's just standing there in the middle of the room, so calm and composed, when I'm about to call people to arrest her. My hand drops on my side, and it could be the worst decision I could ever make in my entire life. But I have to ask. "What… W-What are you exactly?"

"Same as you," is her mind-boggling reply.

It doesn't help. Still, I hold no piece to even start with this jigsaw puzzle. And why am I actually listening to a stranger who snuck into my house at night and scaring me to death with her magic tricks? I should be calling the police already!

"And you should stop doing that," she adds some kind of a friendly advice; my hand is up on my temple. "Rubbing your head like you're experiencing headache. It's useless, my friend. There's no pain. You _cannot_ feel anything to begin with."

Bizarre. Come to think of it, I really don't have headache. In fact, I don't feel anything. _Why?_ I turn to her, questioningly. "Okay, I'm so beyond confused right now. Let's do it again, shall we? Who are you, and what are you? What are you doing here, and what the hell is happening?"

"Your name's Chloe, right?"

She even knows my name, for Christ's sake! I scoff at this madness. "Alright, alright. Stop creeping me out already and just tell me what's going on!"

"Fine," she mutters.

Her eyes shift to the side; I follow the path – the bedside table. Okay, what am I supposed to be looking at for an explanation? The lamp? Scented candle? A copy of _Fresh Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Café_? The... clock... My mouth hangs open at the sight. It still reads _8:51_. That's weird.

"Time doesn't work in this side of the world," I hear her say. "For you, it's 8:51 from now on."

"I'm not sure I follow," I admit. She gives me this knowing look which sets me into a mission to check every item that can show me time. All of them, they read _8:51. _"I-I…Did you mess up all the clocks?"

She chuckles, finding my question silly. "Even if I did, how do you explain the fact that you're standing through your coffee table?"

"What?" I look down, alarmed, and see that my feet have passed through the solid material as pointed out by the still unnamed intruder. Rattled, I hurry away from the furniture, as far away as possible.

"And now you're trespassing my territory."

I turn around. To my shock, my body has overlapped with hers. "What the…"

"I know," she flashes a grin before voluntarily backing away to save my remaining sanity. "Welcome to the Limbo, Chloe."

"Limbo?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "I have to give it a name. It makes it easier to deal with."

"I-I..." I can only shake my head in disbelief.

"I'm on my way to this awesome Halloween party." That kind of explains the monstrous feature – is it a costume? But it doesn't explain how she changes in such a magical speed. "And you're already freaked out, so I guess there's no more point in beating around the bush. This version of yourself that you see is a soul."

"Are you saying I'm dead?"

"I'm saying your physical self is in a matter of life and death back in the physical plane which then activates your consciousness as a soul in this side of the realm."

"You honestly think I believe you, huh?"

"Fair enough," she smirks before changing back into her costume.

"Jesus!" I gasp in surprise. "Can you please stop doing that? Or at least give me a head's up before you turn into… you know, Shomba."

And then she's in human form again except from her mouth which rips apart, creating bloody cracks towards her ears as she smiles. "You're taking this very well, thank you very much. One less pain in the ass, ladies and gentlemen."

"That's because _if_ you're telling the truth," I start with such premise and emphasizing the doubt on its reliability, "I'm going to make it out of here alive."

She purses her lips and nods her head. "Confident, I like it. Now come on. Just because we're ghosts doesn't mean we can't partay, yeah? I'm vying for an award tonight, obviously. I'll mention you in my acceptance speech. How's that? I'm Rem, by the way."

Finally, she remembers to reveal her name.

* * *

><p>I already put a brand on Rem; she's that type who's fond of keeping the element of surprise, a daredevil youngster, and an avid follower of the YOLO culture – her ending in the Limbo it's not much of a shocker, if you ask me. Without warning, she tosses me into a dark narrow hallway and the next thing I know I'm shrieking and squirming and running for dear life. While I beg for the Grady twins to leave me the <em>fuck<em> alone, Rem is having the best time chasing away Pennywise the Clown. She's not even in her costume yet.

"Hurry up, Chloe!"

She will be the death of me, I am convinced. I scream back at the screeching Pontianak on an alive wall painting one last time before going after the blonde woman I barely know further into the dark unknown.

"You said we're going to have fu- Argh!"

I must have stepped onto some switch strategically installed in place which triggers layers and layers of cobwebs to drop over my head. I can totally make out the handful of spiders crawling through my pellucid body. I panic immediately, brushing the foreign objects off of me, until stumbling down on the floor. The good thing about being a soul, I've learned to appreciate, is that I don't get hurt; I'm just down on my stomach, that's all.

"I'd lend you hand, but we both know it would simply pass through yours."

I look up to Rem; she has a point. I help myself up, and the rolling eyeballs on the floor have made it a lot easier.

"I take it you don't go to haunted mansions."

"The problem is that you're plain crazy," I throw her a look.

"So what?" she whines back before getting distracted by the presence of a new company. "Oh, meet a good friend of mine."

"Hello there, mate." _Australian_. "I heard you just arrived, ay? Welcome to the Limbo. I'm Fat Amy."

"Hi, nice to meet you. My name's Chloe," I extend a hand for a shake when Rem gives me a look as a reminder. So I pull my hand away and pay attention to Fat Amy's costume instead – German Beer Girl with a twist of protruding intestines out of her belly. "Aw, your baby has its own costume? How sweet of you to do that!"

The blonde frowns at my remarks and I catch a glower coming from the other blonde's direction. Did I say something wrong?

"I'm not pregnant," mumbles the Australian who appears to be too depressed for someone who is incapable to have emotions. "I'm just a German Beer Girl who got her intestines eaten by a cannibal."

_Oh my god_. "I... I-I'm terribly sorry, I... I meant it as a compliment. I mean... S-So what if you're fat, right? It's good. It's… healthy!"

"I might as well be a fat Majin buu." For some reason, Fat Amy wails even more with every word I speak. No doubt Rem has changed back into her scary costume to make her point to me. Alright, I get it already! I'll shut up!

"We'll go register for the contest," Rem tells me as she start to escort her pink friend away from me, ignoring my dissent "Wait for me here. I'll be back. And, Chloe?"

"Yeah?"

"_Please_ stay out of trouble."

_Okay,_ I roll my eyes and watch them disappear into the crowd. Then, I'm alone – dying somewhere in the physical world and all alone in this supernatural plane. It's ridiculous, really. I'm not supposed to believe in any of this in the first place. I must pinch myself; this might just be one big awful nightmare. My fingers, however, overlap with the skin and supposed flesh and bones. I can't even touch myself! Oddly, I feel a gush of wind pass my face and so I turn around. I see... is it a smoke? Curious, I find myself pursuing its path, until Ace Ventura blocks my way.

"Bumper Allen," he introduces himself in that classic flamboyant Ace Ventura style. "You make me feel again, baby. For a moment there, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. Now I see that I am very much alive, and heaven has been brought to me. It's right here before my very eyes."

It's a pick up line, I get it. And it's filled with the most obvious lies.

"No, you're in limbo, Bumper." Another voice, a woman's, comes from behind. Elle Woods is on her way towards us. "You should really come up with a new way to be disgusting. That pick up line is _so_ 2001."

He glimpses at me. "It usually works."

"Well, here's your wakeup call." She runs her eyes over me I feel a little violated. "Oh and I'm warning you, Allen. You better keep your pants on all night. We've got kids coming in and out, you whore."

"But if Rem invites me to woohoo, I'm not going to say 'no'."

_Woohoo?_ What is this, Sims?

"Keep dreaming," swears the blonde, ultimately sending him off. She heaves out a sigh as she fixes her pink attire then grins at me. "And... you're safe. I'm Aubrey Posen. Welcome to my party."

"Thanks," I reply meekly. "I'm Chloe. Uh... is he and... Rem...?"

"Oh no, no." Her eyes widen in repugnance. "God, no!"

Good, 'cause my impression of her would have increased to a whole new level of craziness.

"You're new here, aren't you?" she asks, leading me away from my post. "So, what's your golden ticket to heaven, huh?"

I open my mouth to answer when I realize I don't know. All I have is a mouthful of stammer. God, I don't even know why I'm here! I'm beginning to think Rem actually drugged me into oblivion.

"That's alright," Aubrey assures me though. "Most of us haven't figured it out anyway. Me? It took me a lot of time to remember I'm in comma. For what reason? I still don't have a clue. Well, that's why we're here. To find answers. But it's going to be trickier the more you stay. Your memory will fade away until you're completely empty."

"That's scary," I hear myself say.

"Emotion," she recognizes. "Enjoy it while it lasts, Chloe."

Oh what did I get myself into?

"Maverick!" Aubrey exclaims. A kid in a minion costume is climbing up a giant jar of candies. "Uh, make yourself at home, honey. I'll see you around."

She dashes to the living room to foil the kid's plans. I wonder if there's actually worse than being in this plane. Considering his age – maybe 5 or 6 – Maverick doesn't belong here with any of us. I say he can do whatever the hell he wants. And _that_ I will certainly do. I decide to check out the buffet table; everything is arranged in groups according to a certain category. The drinks section is subdivided into different trays; each one containing a specific Halloween-themed beverage. I decide to go for a cocktail glass among the _Ghostbuster_ slimes and steer clear of anything that looks like Dracula's blood.

"Shit." My hand's stuck through the glass. I panic. What am I supposed to do? "Where's Rem when you truly need her?"

"Let go."

I turn to the side to find a brunette idly making her own selection out of the many options of beverages. Aubrey really did a good job organizing this Halloween bash.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Your hand." She makes a nippy glance at my dilemma before picking up a glass with a floating eyeball to match the finger food, literally, she's munching on. "Empty your mind then let go."

I stare at her for a little bit more. Probably sensing my prying, she returns my gaze with an encouraging smile. _Alright. _I take a deep breath and do as I'm told. It's not a piece of cake, it turns out. But after some time, it works!

"Now try holding it again," she says. I'm hesitant, and she must have noticed it. "Go on. Just act normal."

_Normal. _I don't even know what's normal anymore. It's difficult to pretend things are normal when you wake up one night and find out you're stuck in limbo with a bunch of ghosts. Like, how do I know I'm not going mental crazy? I grab the glass again, successfully this time, and urgently take a sip. Sick, I grimace and set it down on the table.

"Is it just me or it doesn't really taste anything?"

She seems bemused. "Well, you're a soul. You're... incapable of... Besides, these are all... Wait, are you the newbie? Did Rem orient you about what you're going through?"

"Uh..." _Orient? _"She was in my house, yeah."

"What did she tell you?"

"That... I'm... dying?"

"What else?"

"And then she invited me to the party."

She nods her head like she has seen it coming. "She has the tendency. She loves to have fun, sometimes at the expense of her job."

"And what is her job exactly?"

"She's the front liner, the Welcome Party. She's supposed to orient newly activated souls, like you, help them get acquainted with the Limbo. She's supposed to teach you the basics like... how to keep you from drowning in the floor."

_What?_ That's when I realize that we are already of the same height. I'm supposed to be taller than her five-foot stature.

"Do it again," she coaches. "Uh, let yourself float back up."

And that's what I do. I'm trying. I even have my eyes closed for focus. But it's not working!

"Of course your mind's not well-trained yet." She's trying to help me out, I know. But I'm on a quicksand and I'm sinking, fast. "Jump! Try jumping."

I'm well aware that I don't have a body, much less a pair of lungs, but I'm panting like a dog here. This is not how I'm going to hell. _Jump_, I condition my mind. _Jump, Chloe, jump!_ But I don't know how – how to control my soul without a body? It's like being afloat on zero gravity; I have nothing to work with. Luckily, she snatches an arrow from Cupid and extends it to me for my hand to hold on. On the count of three, she pulls me up; my body pops out of the floor and lands on the surface, half of me merged with the brunette's.

"This is awkward."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry." I hurriedly draw a considerable space between us. Invading others is not what I want to master. Fortunately, she doesn't seem to mind. "I promise it won't happen again."

She laughs. "Just remind Rem to do her job."

"Is she really that bad?"

"No," she raises her index finger. "I did not say that."

"But it's what you mean," I point out.

She cringe her nose in defeat and lets out a chuckle. "Well... better Rem than Ace Ventura over there or the Asian chick who ate her own twin in the womb."

"For real?" I gasp.

"For real," she nods her head affirmatively; people here are insane. She picks up another drink for me and personally hand it over to avoid any more trouble – our fingers momentarily collided, yet I can't feel her touch much to my sorry ass. "You'll get used to the taste, or the absence of it."

We share a little toast, her way of bidding goodbye. Maybe it's the fact that we are the only ones here who's not wearing a costume; I trail behind her without an invitation.

"I'm Chloe," I facilitate an introduction, flopping next to her on a coffin-like couch.

She changes into a character. "Mia Wallace."

"Funny," I'm being sarcastic at this point.

"Come on, it's Halloween!" she insists. "Don't be such a party poop."

"I-I don't know how to do it."

She leans a little closer to me, gaining my full attention. "One thing you have to understand about how things work in the Limbo, Chloe, is that everything you see here is only an illusion, a product of an amassed imagination."

"You lost me," I tell her the truth. My eyes fix on hers, if only they care to meet mine.

"Just use your imagination," she shares the trick, turning her head to my side so I have to back away promptly. "Imagine what you want to be."

_Imagination. _Hmm... what do I want to be for Halloween? Sally from _The Nightmare Before Christmas! _That would be cool. So I let my mind imagine. I have it pictured in my mind. I'm focusing on the details now – the stitches, the fabric patterns of her dress, etc. The problem is I can't render the imagination into my visual appearance.

"Uh..." she squint her eyes and purses her lips at the absence of transformation. "That's one hell of a costume."

I glare at her mockery to which she responds with a laugh.

"Looks like you have to work on your thoughts," she gives me an advice. "You're a fresh breed, so you must remember a lot from the other side of the world. That'll help."

"I don't even know how I got here."

"Me neither," she attempts to make me feel better. "So what do you remember then?"

What do I remember? Gosh, what do I remember? I got nothing. It's like I don't even know who I am anymore. My memory is betraying me, and by the general rule, I'm supposed to remember more than what the others can. "Butterflies."

"Butterflies," she repeats.

"I think I used to like butterflies."

She smiles at my one and only memory. "That's a nice place to start. You'll remember more, I promise."

"Chloe!" I hear Rem's voice. The blonde rushes towards me. "Chloe, where have you been? I've been looking all over for you. Didn't I tell you to stay put? Tell me you didn't piss off anybody. If you want to get out of here safe and sound, it's best that you stay away from trouble, understand?"

"I was just talking to..." I turn my head back to my friendly companion only to find the seat next to mine already vacant. "Where did she go?"

"Who?"

"Uh... Mia Wallace..."

"Pulp Fiction? She's a movie character, Chloe."

"It's a costume," I explain. "I didn't get her real name."

"Forget it," she snatches away the drink from my hand and set it on the table. "Come on, let's go dancing."

Suddenly I'm thankful she can't actually touch me. Otherwise, she would have definitely dragged me away.

* * *

><p>"That's nice of you," I have to say when Fat Amy has gone to the direction of her own street. "Letting her win when you could have."<p>

She sighs. "I'm saving your ass, doofus. Now she thinks you're her lucky charm."

"Maybe I am," I tease.

She rolls her eyes and scoffs just when we reach my house. She opens the door and let me in like a true guardian angel. "Are you going to be okay, dude? The first night is usually the hardest."

"But then I cann_ot_ feel anything, right?" I shrug. I am a lake of emptiness.

"It's not the feeling itself that hurts us. It's remembering the way it feels. In your case, since you're new, the memories when they start rushing back to you, they got to be vivid."

"I'll be fine."

"Sure? Like, 100% sure?"

"You worry too much for a ghost," I chuckle, not really answering her question because I'm not sure. I just know Rem's really good at being a friend, and that's all a newbie, and any other soul, could really ask for while in limbo. So I say, contrary to Mia Wallace's opinion, Rem is just the perfect person for the job.

We exchange our good nights and I shut the door close, all on my own in this empty house. It's weird, unfamiliar. It's like seeing my own home for the very first time. I stroll in the living room, a picture frame appear on the wall. I recognize myself but not the man smiling next to me on the photo. He has the same red hair, so he must be my father. I remember how I used to miss him during summer camp. I recall the pain, and it stings me now.

_Ding dong._

Instinct makes me avert my attention to the front door. Has Rem gone back? Does she know that I'm thinking about my dad? Did she return to ask me again whether I'm alright? I speed to the open the door, ready to tell her that this is too much for me to handle, except it wasn't Rem. Instead, a gift box is lying on my doorstep.

_For a proper welcome,_ the card reads, and I instantly figure out the sender. A smile forms on my lips; I blame it on instinct. Impatiently, I unwrap the present – a Cairns Birdwing, fluttering its magnificent wings. I watch in awe as it flies into the house. Yeah... I guess I'll be alright.

* * *

><p><em>Thought a little introduction would be proper for a first chapter.<em>


	3. Clear Your Mind

_**BeChloeFan01: **She'd rock Mia Wallace! :)_

**_RobOverstreet:_**_ Thanks. But I'm still hanging. I am yet to decide the direction of the story, unfortunately._

**_Guest_**_ (Nov 5)__:__Sounds fun, right? LOL._

**_NightmareWalker: _**_I'm having a difficult time in this transition from the Stolen/Vindicated universe to a completely different plot. __I would definitely put some twists somewhere along the way. :)_

**_50 Shades of Pitch Perfect:_**_ Thanks! :)_

**_MysticFalls94:_**_ A bit confusing, right? I get that feeling too writing it. LOL. Rem became a beloved character for me as well._

**_oisooper:_**_ I'm giddy just by reading your review._

**_kinqslanding: _**_I guess I've been playing Sims too much._

**_Guest_**_ (Nov 4): Thank you!_

_I realize it took me a while to post this. I'll update sooner this time._

* * *

><p>CHAPTER TWO: <strong>Clear Your Mind<strong>

"Clear your mind."

I listen to the soft, soothing sound, gently stroking every breath of my soul. With both eyes closed, my senses are supposedly heightened. Pity I am incapable of feeling anything. There's no fulfilment nor apprehension nor anything in between. I am simply a free spirit floating in a vast realm. Then, I see myself – another memory – striking up a pose for the camera with the landscape of London on the background; I look so happy I can hear some faint laughter. Or is it Rem making the snickering noise?

"What?" I fire away at my watchdog. Viewing her as my designated guardian makes me perceive her to be less psychotic. It helps.

She's obviously trying to hide a mischievous smile. "Nothing."

"Oh I don't believe you."

"Whatever, dude." The look on her face shows she's enjoying this moment even more; my suspicion is growing strong. It's not impossible that she has executed an evil plot against me. "Your mind is obviously preoccupied."

That's a clue! My hands instantly inspect my head, forgetting that they would extend beyond what should be a barrier of anatomical structures. I'm literally invading my own territory. _Gross_. Sharp and metallic, I recovered a handful of dart missiles – had Rem been using me as a target board all this time?

"That is not funny," I throw a glare on her way. She makes face and mimics me. How childish. "Seriously, Rem, I've got to learn, and in order to do it, you've got to teach me."

"And I _am_," she insists. "We were just taking a break. You need to conserve some energy for the Trial. It's the only thing that keeps you activated in this realm."

"Breakfast's ready," we hear Fat Amy calling out from the kitchen. Neither of us responds; the absence of aroma is non-motivating.

But Rem has stood from the couch and so I try to block her way to fail as she simply walks pass through me_. _"Wait! What trial?"

"Didn't I tell you?" she briefly turns around to show her innocent face before disappearing to the hallway. How could she keep on leaving out the important details from me? "You're meeting the Timekeeper today, any moment now. I thought you'd want to be scheduled as soon as possible 'cause you seem to want to go back to life pronto, right?"

I'm stumped. "I-I... I don't understand"

I sit across Rem, and Fat Amy fixes us each a plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. "You're going to the Trial, dumbass. There, you will be informed whether or not you still have some time left to exercise your _privilege_ to live in the human world."

"You mean I will...?" I don't like where this conversation is going.

"_Death_ is a possibility," she nods her head all too casually I have to remind myself emotions is almost absent in her persona

"But I don't want to die."

"Well, if it helps, being dead is not that bad. Take Fat Amy here for example."

"She's dead?" Shocked, I shoot the other blonde a look.

The Australian put on a very proud smug. "Choked on a piece of Hershey's Chocolate Bar. Boy, it _is_ The Great American Bar. Worth the bite."

Death by chocolate in its most literal sense.

"I'd like another option," I demand. I don't even want to know what would happen if I die.

Forming a smiley on her pancakes with the use of her bacon strips, Rem momentarily lifts her eyes away from her masterpiece to look at me. "If time doesn't work out for you, you can make an appeal. If you're going to be convincing enough, the Timekeeper might reconsider your case. It's not as easy as it sounds though. There's no really right or wrong answer. In fact, it may vary from one individual to another."

"Guys, you have to help me. Please."

Rem winks at me as a reassurance. "Don't worry, schatzi. We got ya."

"W-What am I supposed to do?"

She throws a whole piece of pancake at me from out of the blue, and the food crosses my outline and stick into my chest, floating around where my heart should have been. "See what I did there? That's a proof that you're emptying out faster than you should be. You're not catching back your memories, Chloe. You're supposed to be catching back your memories!"

"If nobody's going to eat that," Fat Amy reached for the pancake inside me with her bare hands. "Thanks."

"Clear your mind," Rem instructs me again, chewing on her breakfast. "Don't pay attention to the things around you. They are all useless, aid your way to the Gates of No Return. Be human if you want to be human again. Forget that you're a ghost because once you're accustomed, you'll forget what it's like to be alive."

"But how do I do that? I don't even know why I can hold a cup _sometimes,_ yet I can't touch myself."

"You're thinking _of_ touching yourself?" her lips form a malicious smirk while Fat Amy giggles on the side. "So what's your lady jam, huh?"

"Seriously, people." I make sure they each get plentiful of death glares. "Get out of my pants!"

"Poop."

There goes another threatening look towards my so-called guardian angel.

"Memories," she finally points at my transparent head. "They make us human, feel human. You need to get your memories back, Chloe. It's your greatest weapon. Give them a reason why they should let you go back to life."

"Again, _how?_"

My blonde friends exchange looks. My face must still convey anxiety despite the lack of it on my senses. "Clear your mind of all the unnecessary and let the memories in. How? There's no general rule. We all have to figure it out ourselves, except Fat Amy here and the like. The dead ones just have to cross the Gate."

I shook my head, upset. I'm doomed.

* * *

><p>We make our way further into the center of what I would recognize as a rainforest. Fat Amy said this is where my trial will be conducted, where the Timekeeper lives. So my fate will be decided by some old hermit. <em>Just great. <em>In such case, I would prefer the Timekeeper to be more of a Master Roshi than Jason Voorhees.

"Are we there yet?" I inquire.

As a response, Rem pushes away a group of humongous green leaves, creating a gap where a blinding light can pass through. Is that the sun? I discreetly put down my hands guarding my eyes when I realize the others are simply cool about it – _old habits die hard_ – and trail behind them. We reach a wide open space. In the middle of it is a ball of light suspended in the air.

"What's that?" I ask.

"The Timekeeper," they answer in unison.

Nowhere near how I imagined him to be. Or _it_, as it turns out.

"You will introduce yourself as 8:51," Rem gives me last minute guidelines. "That's your ID in the Limbo. Then, you will wait for the verdict. After which is the only time you can motion for an appeal. Just cling on every memory we were able to recover, alright? Now off you go."

"Aren't you coming?" I'm sounding like a child who's afraid to lose her mother in the grocery store.

"We'll be waiting for you right here," Fat Amy smiles at me.

"Seriously?"

"You'll be fine," guarantees Rem I almost believe her. "Just touch the light and your trial will begin."

"I'm not touching that!" I complain. I can totally make out those tiny lightning bolts around the surface of the ball. "What if I get electrocuted?"

"Do you want to live or not?"

_A big yes! _And so I voluntarily move my feet towards the center, just a few inches from the ball of light. I turn back to my ghost friends, who both pull a thumbs up, returning my gaze towards the _thing_. Like, do I really have any other choice? I raise my hand from my side and slowly reach for the blazing sphere. The tip of my finger has barely come in contact with the phantom of its bolts when I'm brusquely sucked into a different plane, a split second of darkness and of spinning around like an old wooden top in the fullest speed. And in that moment I know something has grabbed my arm; the feeling is all too real it's hard to ignore. Before long, I find myself down on my knees as if I just tumbled on the ground after a long sprint, panting so heavily I am persuaded I'm still capable of running out of breath. Oddly, I'm still in the middle of the rainforest, same spit, except that I'm alone and that the surroundings are darker and hazier.

I push myself up. I feel different, I feel _more_ human. Unexpectedly, effortless, my memories come rushing back to me all at once – I see my father, my mother, my friends, my childhood memories, the dog that used to be my pet for the longest time, someone's wedding party, bungee jumping... I have to hold on to my suddenly tangible head to help me contain the hurtle in my mind. Then like a shot, I fall back down on my knees upon a wind gust, a black smoke of tornado where I'm the eye. I feel like emptying, the smoke stealing away my precious memories like vacuum. _No!_ I fight my way out of the trap, hoping to save what's left of my past life. I run away as fast as I can; the black smoke chasing me down.

_Run, Chloe! Run!_

Strands of memories gradually disintegrate away from me and blend into the cloud of smoke – not good for me. This rainforest is becoming a gigantic maze where I can possibly be encumbered by a dead end soon. I have to find a way out of here.

_Light!_

At the far end of my tracks, there's a light beaming from a certain source, perhaps a ball of light. _The Timekeeper!_ My goal is already is set to reach the site, but my clumsy feet have trip into some huge tree roots. I'm half way to the light, and the smoke is closing in. I try to get back up, but it spreads its influence all over my atmosphere I can barely breathe. I'm losing consciousness, weak and bewildered. I lie on my back, at a loss and almost breathless. _Light... light... _Either I'm already hallucinating or somebody has really casted a Patronus charm against the Dementors.

* * *

><p>I wake up at the feeling of drowning; I sit straight up gasping for air with my hands frantically searching for anything to grab for the fear of falling back into the chimera of being submerged in the ocean.<p>

"Shh," I hear someone hushing me up before I can scream. A soft light coming from old-fashioned kerosene lamp has caught my eye; in a spit distance, I recognize the company of my dear friend Mia Wallace. Her attention, however, is divided between checking on me and keeping guard for our safety. Really, what else could harm a dying soul? "You're safe now, Chloe."

I am unable to respond.

"Here," she fishes out a chocolate bar from her pocket. "Eat some. You'd think you'd be feeling better afterwards. Creating illusions, remember?"

"What are you doing here?"

She doesn't answer. Instead, she throws the hot seat back at me. "What are _you _doing here? You're not supposed to be here. This place is more dangerous than it looks."

"But Rem sent me here to meet the Timekeeper for my Trial," I explain.

"Timekeeper?" she seems puzzled for a moment before shaking her head in disagreement. "You won't find the Timekeeper here. Did the black smoke look like the Timekeeper for you?"

I purse my lips. "Well, it sure looked like it was going to eat me."

"Oh it would do worse," she promises. "What just attacked you is a Soul Hunter. It hunts vulnerable souls specifically to steal away their memories, sometimes to the point of that soul's annihilation, and store the memories as its own. When they have enough memories to make them a human soul, they would try to cross the plane into the physical world. Newbies are the most vulnerable hence the best target, so you have to watch out for yourself."

_Steal memories? _No, no, no...

"Hey, are you okay?" she inquires when I start to exhibit panic behaviour. "Is there something wrong?"

"My memories," I give her an answer as I try to start the process once more – clear my mind and try to recover as much memories as I can. Unluckily, I'm feeling empty. Stupid Soul Hunter has stolen away my recuperated memories. "Damn it."

"What is it with your memories?" She's oblivious. She _cannot_ comprehend my sentiments right now. She can't feel sympathy for my failure.

I flop on the base of a trunk and look up to her hopelessly. If I had lacrimal gland, I would have cried right in front of her already. "The smoke... Most of my memories are gone. I guess I'll be stuck here forever or die."

"Uh, lonely?" she tries to guess the appropriate emotion for me.

_Frustrated, crushed, heartbroken... _so many other adjectives to describe it, but I speak of nothing. She's not going to understand any of it.

"It's going to be alright," she says anyway.

Really, I should be upset because I've just lost my big shot at leaving the Limbo. It's the most human thing to react in such a way, yet I'm staring at her like she's telling the truth, and I most absolutely believe her. She rests the lamp nearby then slips into the space next to me. "I don't remember much as well, but I'm told that my name is Beca. You can call me that. A new memory you can start with, yeah?"

"Beca," I repeat her name and make sure it stick into my memory no matter what. She turns to me and smiles, and I feel better. "Thanks."

"No problem," she winks then shifts even more towards me. "Now close your eyes. Let me teach you a little trick, okay? This is how I try to do the memory resurgence thing."

I obediently shut my eyes close and listen to her voice.

"Imagine your head as one narrow room filled with all these big unnecessary boxes, then put yourself right in the middle of all these chaos," she begins and I follow. "Now clear it, clear your mind. Choose a box; pick it up or push it away, just throw it out. Do it again and again and again until it's just you. So it's empty. This is the time you let your memories float back in. It's time to fill in the room. Think – what are the things that should be there inside, what boxes should be there in your mind."

The room grows wide; the floor turns into sand; I sense the familiar smell of salty breeze and the music of waves crashing into the shore. Before me is a man down on his knees, holding out a small velvet box with a diamond ring. I don't remember who he is, but I must have been so in love with him. He pronounces my name and asks me to marry him. I must have said 'yes' because then he gets up on his feet and poises to shackle me in his embrace, but it's when my eyes voluntarily flutter open and I'm looking directly into Beca's deep blue orbs. I would say it's probably one of her few human characteristics remaining.

"How's it?" she asks.

"I got a memory," I whisper in disbelief.

Her lips curve into a smile – I wonder if she does these things purely out of habit without its relevance. "Come on then. You have to do it again. You can't face the Timekeeper without preparing for an Appeal. Just in case."

"Will you go with me?" I demand for her company. I feel like I can do this only if I have her by my side. "Please, Beca?"

At first, she seems to be confused. I want to tell her it's what a friend would do. But something tells me that the whole concept of friendship has already been slipping away from her too. I reach supposedly to hold her hand and assure her as well that things will also get better for her, only to fail when my hand has simply overlapped with hers. I can't touch her.

"You'll get used to it," she lets out a small laugh. "Come on, we better start collecting back your memories, so you can soon get back to life."

Nodding my head, I prepare myself for the process. My reluctance to pick up the unnecessary boxes and throw them out of the window, however, swells. There's this tiny wish to stay with these souls who are not even aware how lonely they are. These people need saving, whatever it means.

* * *

><p>I trail behind Beca as she navigates the way deep into the forest. She warns me about the strangling vines, yet my eyes are fixed on her back, quietly plotting a plan to save her, and Rem, and anybody else. Maybe we can strike a deal with the Timekeeper or something – convert all memories into life time.<p>

"What memories do you have?" my inquisitive persona probes.

She briefly pauses on her tracks to look at me. "It's different with me."

"How come?"

"Well, for starters, I've been here for a very long while. You must have met Fat Amy. I was here before she arrived, and she's now on the last stage of purification, before she can officially cross the Gate. Almost all my memories have already faded."

That's so sad, and she's not affected not even a bit. Not at all.

"So how much time do you have left?"

"Uh..." she glances at me again. "It's really complicated with me."

"How complicated?" Because I want to understand. "Did you make an Appeal or something?"

She tilts her head on the side and purses her lips, weighing the options. "Y-Yeah... There's something. Let's just say, I'm not going through the same thing as the rest of you. I'm what you would call... a, uh... special case."

"What did you do?" I ask, interested.

Beca pushes away a group of humongous green leaves like what Rem previously did. In the center of the wide open space, again is the ball of light. I'm about to approach it again, but she stops me.

"It's not the same thing you touched," she cautions me. "That's the Timekeeper."

And so I'm terrified. This is it.

"There's this one single memory that I have," says Beca like it's something useful to my case. "In fact, it's all I have left. It's not even clear anymore. And I've forgotten why, but I know it's important to me. I gave up everything I have for that single memory. That's what I did."

To be honest, I have so many questions for her to answer right now. Unfortunately, the Timekeeper has summoned us, thinks we're intruders out of bounds.

"Identification," its voice is ethereal it should send goosebumps all over my body!

I remember Rem's instruction. "I-I'm 8:51, sir... uh, madam..."

"1:04," Beca responds coolly. "She got lost on her way. She's here for her Trial."

"She's late," declares the Timekeeper. "It's a calculated demonstration that she's keen to take time for granted. How can I trust that she doesn't waste it again? I hereby sentence her to Death."

"What?" I blurt out, almost ballistic. I've heard the verdict; it's time for my Appeal because _death? What the fuck!_ "That's ridiculous! I can't be late! Time doesn't even work in this plane, does it?"

Beca shoots me a glare. I guess I should be keeping my mouth shut if I want to stay out of trouble. "There has been a mishap in her teleportation, _which_ involves the participation of the Soul Hunters. Trust me, I saw it with my own two eyes. Now won't you consider that Death is too harsh a punishment for something she has no fault whatsoever?"

"Hmm..." the Timekeeper is making a deliberation. Requiring Beca to come with me to my Trial might be the best choice I've ever made. "You're not even supposed to be here, 1:04."

But she came anyway.

"Then punish me," she volunteers much to my guilt. "Not her."

The ball of light shrinks, dimming its glow, I feel like it's bidding me and my hopes to going back to life goodbye. _Death. _I'm a dead soul. Unexpectedly though, the blazing sphere bursts into a hundred rays of light. There's the feeling of being dragged again, and the next thing I know, I'm lying on my back with Beca, Rem, and Fat Amy all standing around me like I'm some crime victim.

"Congratulations, Casper!" Rem greets me with that sarcastic smirk. "You get yourself a reschedule. It's like detention in the physical world minus the hook-up, and it's _not _good."

I stand up. Why do I always have to fall on the ground?

"What happened, Chloe?"

"Rem," Beca calls for her attention and they meet for a private conversation just enough for the rest of the group not to hear. Distance though does not hide the fact that they're indeed talking about me. They return afterwards with Rem treating the matter differently than the previous.

"Argh, I gotta go," she announces, half-hearted, tightening the bandana around her forearm. "Newbie incoming."

"I need to go to class," adds Fat Amy.

The blondes scowl at each other as if neither bothered to inform the other about their prescheduled appointments. What would they do with their pet?

"Just go," I tell them. "I can go home on my own."

"No!" exclaims Rem I wonder why she's overprotective all so sudden. "You should never be alone when outside your house."

"But-"

She holds up a hand to zip me, I roll my eyes. "You're my responsibility so you have no right to disagree with me, shitface."

"I'll walk her home," offers Beca. None of us saw it coming. "I'll make sure she gets home safe."

I'm supposed to protest; it's too much of inconvenience I've been causing her already. However, the blondies think it's a brilliant idea and take off after a very insincere expression of gratitude. I turn to the brunette; she shrugs playfully. Just the two of us again, I guess.

We stand at my doorstep while I invite her in. The thing is she has to be someplace else.

"So I'll get going," she points to the road with her thumb. "Don't leave the house unless you want to freak them out."

I'm just nodding.

"Jog your memory," is her parting gesture. "Clear your mind."

And I try. I start off picking up boxes, tossing them out of my thoughts. It's almost empty with just one last box left. I don't pick it though nor ignore it. I'm letting it stay. My eyes linger around the room and stop at the only remaining box, the one labelled _'Beca'_.


	4. Now Showing

_**SMILE . Bee . Happpy, Guest** (Nov 11):Thank you! :)_

**_purplefurball:_**_ Best breakfast ever!_

**_BeChloeFan01: _**_The down side of knowing it's a Bechloe end game._

**_cricket:_**_ I like the tandem._

**_50 Shades of Pitch Perfect: _**_Trying..._

**_Patatas:_**_ To be honest, I don't have a particular celebrity or any person in mind. I tried picturing her, but just fits the character, so I guess I'm leaving the imagination up to the readers._

**_madness2013:_**_ Because I just love Harry Potter!_

**_anon:_**_ We'll get to that, buddy._

* * *

><p>CHAPTER THREE: <strong>Now Showing...<strong>

As usual, I walk with Rem and Fat Amy. But today is a special day, it seems to be. Souls from all walks of life march down the streets to gather for a very _important _event – the Limbo Film Festival. I can't imagine how tedious and monotonous the others' state can be, so it's nice to see these zombie-like creatures light up this ghost town with an infinitesimal amount, almost nothing, of excitement. In this dimension, a teeny-weeny bit of emotion already means significantly a lot.

"So how does it work?" I question out of my remaining curiosity. Is it a real movie or they just make a parody up on stage? Or maybe the old stuff and we get a taste of red carpet premiere with a visit from the dead actors, like oh god, Marlon Brando!

"Everybody who wants to contribute provides strands of memories until the entire film is recreated," Fat Amy tries to explain the phenomena to me. "Some volunteers will be operating as projectionists to make sure the compiled memories run smoothly and _chronologically_, you know."

"So how many movies are we talking about here?"

"A _fuckload_!" Rem exclaims, all childishly giddy – hopping up and down as we approach the venue, and talking so fast I think I'm going to be sick. "Dude, each tent is assigned a certain genre. There's horror, psycho thriller, suspense, crime, paranoia... all those shits, yo! What else do you want?"

"Please tell me there's comedy," I turn to the other blonde, revolted.

My Australian friend, thank god, nods her head positively. "There's some series, too, if you enjoy that kind. _X-Files... Friends... Freaks and Geeks..._ the list goes on and on depending on the contribution. You'd regret it if you used to watch a show nobody else did."

"I hope you're not claustrophobic 'cause I contributed the whole _The Descent _film," boasts Hannibal Lecter who poses as a pretty girl you'd think she loves sunflowers and hummingbirds. "Hey, I expect you two to watch it, alright?"

Clearing my mind already, searching for the box with the perfect excuse not to go to _that _tent later, and glue it in place inside my head. I am _not _watching that with Rem!

"Hi, girls!" we are greeted by a brunet, inconveniently carrying a gigantic box while attempting to wave at us. "Good to see you here. Well, yeah, everybody's here."

Really, everybody's here? I find myself straining my neck, searching over the premise for a certain someone among the thickening crowd.

"Okay, beyotch," Rem refers to me. "Meet pantywaist."

I shoot her a glare before flashing a friendly smile at the guy. "My name's Chloe."

"I'm Jesse," he responds shyly. "You ready for the festival? I got the reels."

"I have a movie!" screams the crazy one, boastful as if she's actually a serious film director.

He laughs. "What else are you watching? Have you planned your itinerary for the day? Best to arrange your attendance so you don't miss anything. Here's the list of the shows. Che-"

Before Jesse could get to the end of that sentence, the blonde duo has snatched the piece of paper from the top of the box. With their utmost attention and great care, they browse through the long list of films to be shown at the festival. Jesse sneaks a glance at me and I proceed to scan the list as well because something tells me this will determine how the rest of my day will go, and I cannot not have a say about it. The loud siren marks as the end of a ticking clock – _time's up!_

"Okay, ladies, where's our first stop?"

"Slither!"

"American Pie!"

"Monty Python and the..." my voice trails off, realizing I'm the only one still babbling. "...Holy...Grail."

But more importantly, we have failed to come up with a unified choice. Rem and Fat Amy have started arguing why one movie is better than the other. Jesse looks over my way; the dilemma has commenced to sink in – it's going to be a really _long_ day.

* * *

><p>In the absence of that unified choice, Jesse has managed to convince us to go to his assigned tent. Had we known it would be <em>The Last Airbender, <em>we would have happily turned the other way. Well, it's too late to back out now. We're stuck in the worst part of the Limbo.

My hands search for the seat while my eyes are pensive with hunting down a certain friendly ghost. Where the hell is she? Everybody's already here, and the movie is about to start, yet there's still no sign of her. Could it be that she has a lot better taste in movies than Jesse?

"Coming through! Coming through!"

A kid's transparent body blurs my sight for a moment. He – Maverick, I remember his name – leaps from one row of chairs to another until he has ultimately reached the front seats. He must have done something his parents told him not to do so as to warrant him a slot in this supernatural place. What about Beca, I suddenly ponder. What kind of stupid circumstance could have brought her here in the Limbo? It would be easier to get an answer from her if only she's here in attendance. I strain my neck even more to scan the noisy audience with still no luck.

"You're not going to find her here," I hear Rem's voice from my side. "She doesn't go to stuff like this."

I withdraw from my failed attempt at a spying mission and fix myself as I properly sit, pretending that I was not involved in any illicit activity as she has just implied; best to keep it in a low profile.

"Who?" Fat Amy asked, however, poking the fire. Why am I even worried about them finding out? I'm not doing anything wrong anyway... right?

"Beca," answered my stupid guardian angel for me. How did she even know?

"How can you be so sure, huh?" I hiss at her as the movie begins.

"Like you have any other friends."

I scoff, kind of insulted. "I... I-I have other friends, you know."

"Oh really?" Both turn to me each with a smirk glued on their lips, posting a tremendous challenge.

"Uh... s-sure..." I try not to stammer as I think of what else to say. I know they will be waiting for a name, unfortunately. If I lie, Rem would know because her job requires her to welcome all souls to the Limbo. There's only one person I can think of who _might _vouch for me as a friend, but I only met her once. We can hardly be friends. "Au..._drey?_ Audrey... R-Rosen?"

They erupt into a fit of laughter, I roll my eyes. So I got the name wrong. I'm not good with memorizing names! I'm sure we had a connection though. She was really nice to me at the party. Yes, we could be friends.

"Audrey Rosen..." they're almost rolling in their seats, laughing too hard we're starting to get the attitude from the rest of the audience.

Like a leap of faith, I catch a glimpse of Audrey Rosen making an exit – wow, is this movie really that terrible? I have decided to prove to my comrades that Audrey and I can be pretty tight with just a little reminder of who I am (I hope). I leave them, still laughing and still causing havoc inside the make-shift theater, and let myself out of the tent. If I have my heart inside me now, it sure would have skipped a beat; I see _her_, standing by a cotton candy machine with a built in stereo, just when I'm not expecting it.

_ [Life could be a dream, sh-boom  
><em>_If I could take you up in paradise up above, sh-boom]_

I wave a hand, she waves back. I take a step forward, my eyes already fix on her, when Audrey blocks her from my vision. I realize it was actually her whom Beca was waving at. _Why would she wave at you, Chloe? _Stupid, stupid me... I automatically keep my head down; hide my face from embarrassment as I retreat.

_ [Hello hello again, sh-boom and hopin' we'll meet again, boom]_

"Chloe?"

Someone calls out my name, _shit._ I have to turn around. It's Audrey Rosen. God, why? She can't remember why she's in comma, but she remembers a stranger's name when I can't even remember hers. Beca, subsequently. glances at me too, probably wondering what's bizarre about me.

"I-I didn't see you there," I force an awkward smile, and approach them. Like, what else can I do? "Uh, hi... guys..."

_ [If you would let me spend my whole life lovin' you  
><em>_Life could be a dream sweetheart, sh-boom]_

I so want to shoot this cotton candy machine. I feel like The Chords is mocking me.

"Do you want some cotton candy, Chloe?" the blonde offers. _Twice. _She calls me by the name twice, and I still have no idea what hers is.

"Uh... no, thanks." Some creepy pathetic laugh escaped from my mouth. What the fuck! Now I totally want to leave the Limbo and just go straight to hell. "So... what's up… people?"

"Beca and I? Oh... w-we were just talking." Even for a ghost, she sounds too defensive.

I look over at the brunette; she simply flashes a small smile and takes another bite of her blue-and-pink-swirl cotton candy. Okay, I don't understand what the deal here is.

"I-I gotta go," blondie bids us farewell, scratching the side of her head as she walks into another tent for another movie.

Heaving out a sigh, I turn to the side to see Beca goggling at me. I guess it's just the two of us left behind again. And I'm comfortably weird about it. I awkwardly stand there while she finishes her cotton candy. _Say something, idiot! _I open my mouth only to remain speechless. Before long, she's setting off. She's leaving, and all I've done is act all strange around her.

"Hey," she pauses at her tracks to turn around and look at me. Great, she's making it more convenient for me. "Are you coming or you're just going to stand there?"

I check behind me, the sides, and the closest proximity just to make sure this time she's referring to no one else but me. She raises an eyebrow at me, questioningly, so yeah, I guess this time it's really me. _Awkward. _I rush towards her, and then we walk away from the hundreds of tents. I don't even know where we're going, but I'm feeling good. I'm weirdly comfortable about this.

* * *

><p><em>[I remember every little thing<br>__As if it happened only yesterday  
><em>_Parking by the lake  
><em>_And there was not another car in sight]_

We sit across each other on a booth at the diner; with the jukebox playing, I feel like we are starring in an old movie, or perhaps Glee. She looks at me intently as if studying my face, and I try my best to avoid her eyes, those dark blue orbs. Did her mother never tell her it's rude to stare? Luckily, the waitress – Cindy Rose, I think – comes in with some fish and chips and a couple of burgers. I steal this opportunity to discreetly look around the place; nobody else is here but us. Indeed, everyone has set to participate in the festival.

"Thanks, Cynthia Rose." Gosh, I got the name wrong again. "This is Chloe, by the way."

"Enjoy," the woman grins at me then leaves for the kitchen.

"And it's '_Aubrey Posen'_," Beca makes sure I meet her gaze this time. She figures. "Now eat up."

"I-I knew that," I lie, and she knows it. I pick on the deep-fried chips for my consumption. She's right; I'm getting used to the taste or the absence of it. And it's oddly delicious. "This is amazingly good!"

"Cynthia Rose used to be a cook in a diner like this," she explains. "Died in a gas explosion. Gas leak turned the building into rubble."

"She remembers?" I notice, sounding a little insensitive for the dead, but hey, I may be a newbie but I'm just an empty soul too. I think I'm allowed to lose compassion or sympathy one in a while. "How could she remember that easily?"

"It's not easy," Beca shakes her head. "She _died_. All her memories are flashing before her now for one last time, but in a kind of slow motion, you know. Then when it's over, it's just over. All those memories will fade, and she's gone. She'll have to cross the Gate whether she likes it or not."

I didn't know. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she assures me with a smile. "We will all cross the Gate anyway... in our own time. Life's predictable, just like that. Worst ending ever, yeah?"

So all these recapturing memories, is it worth giving it a try when we will all end up just the same?

"Shock?" She's making a guess again at what I must be feeling based on my facial reaction.

I shake my head. "Perplexed."

"Someday it's all going to make sense," vows Beca, and I believe her.

"Aubrey," I wait for her to correct me before I go on which she doesn't. "She's still alive, right?"

She stops eating temporarily. "Her appeal was rejected. It's only a matter of time."

"What about Rem?" I urgently ask. All my ghost friends are dying; I can't be left alone here.

She shrugs, "She hasn't taken the Trial yet. She's buying time, for all I know. That's why she wants the job so badly. She thinks she gets a parole or something."

"But she won't," I theorize.

"It's complicated," she maintains.

"And you?" I want her to answer the question as directly as possible – a simple dead or alive. I just want to know if I'm going to lose her too.

"Anticipating," she's guessing my state of emotion one more time.

I firmly ignore the fact that she's trying to get away from the query. "Are you...dead?"

"Well..." she lets out a chuckle, possibly realizing that I won't be letting it go. "They say I got something worse than death. But don't feel sorry for me, seriously. I had a choice, and this is what I chose."

I grimace. "But why?"

"I'm saving my one last memory," she replies, without doubt. Her eyes, they light up, while her lips slightly curve into a bittersweet smile. She seems more human, more alive than I've ever seen her, and I figure just how important that one last memory is. "It may sound crazy, but I can't let it fade. I feel like I _need_ to hold on to it forever. Do you know what I'm saying, Chloe?"

"It sounds like you're in love with someone from the physical world," I say it out loud, not for her sake but for my sake most specially.

"Now I don't know about that," she laughs. "I don't remember being in love…"

"But you are!" I insist, my voice raising. "You're obviously in love with someone, and you should know it. It's like the greatest feeling in the whole wide world, Beca! It's like finding your best friend, your partner in crime, everything you've ever prayed for! It's almost criminal, you know! You get all these tingling feelings that science can never explain or psychology to ever put a pattern into! You have to remember love! You just have to!"

"Whoa whoa," she tries to calm me down. "You're almost shouting there, tiger. Are you alright?"

_No, _I so want to yell out. She finally gets a sense of being in love, yet she doesn't remember the spectacle of it in its fullest. She can't feel it, not even a pinch of it. It's so fucking unfair!

"Lonesome," she makes another guess. I look up from my plate to witness her amusement. "You're pretty weird, aren't you, Chloe? One moment you're all energetic, then next thing you know, you just slide off into melancholy. You have one fucked up emotion, don't you think?"

I do.

"Come on," she throws the table napkin in and leaves her seat. "I have something to show you."

"What? Where are we going?" this time I ask, although my feet are still impossible to hold back. Beca dashes out of the door, and I obediently trail behind. "Seriously, where are we going? Are we going back to the festival?"

"This is so much better," she promises me. She stands in front of me – face to face – so close, too close; in fact, she can just move a little and kiss me any time she desires. "Close your eyes."

"What?" God, is it possible that she can hear my thoughts through this translucent body? Or am I really just that easy to read?

"Don't be such a kill joy! Trust me. Just close your eyes, Chloe."

And I do as I'm told. I have my eyes shut and all that I am surrendered to her. Do you ever have that experience, when you're too engrossed at this one single moment that your thoughts are floating away in space? You imagine all sorts of things, hear this particular mellifluous melody, and it's all uplifting your spirit. For me, it's happening right now. I'm listening to _Sweet Disposition._

_[Sweet disposition  
><em>_Never too soon]_

I can imagine Beca reaching for my hands, taking them into hers, clenching them as tight as she can yet as gentle as possible. I can imagine the touch, the sweet sensation of her skin upon my skin. I can imagine the hint of her breath, the little soft noises as she respires. Just a simple gesture – us standing steadily like this. It's impossible, however. It's only an illusion which, after some time, will fade away into a pile of forgotten memories. Yet in this moment, I _live_.

"Now open them," she whispers. She's right behind me.

Slowly, I flutter my eyes open. I find myself standing over a rustic step-stone bridge across a stream in the middle of what seems to be an enchanted place for me. There must be a gazillion plants, trees, flowers and the like surrounding me; I can almost smell the fresh air. Then I spot one – a Monarch butterfly. It flies towards me, encircling around my soul, then I spot another and another of a different species – Ulysses, Blue Morpho, Goliath Birdwing, and many more, flapping their splendid wings as they all soar around their sanctuary.

"Do you like it?"

I turn around to face the mastermind behind this scheme. "Are you kidding me? This is incredible, Beca! I've never seen anything like this. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," she beams. "I'm just glad you like it."

"I _love _it!"

Laughing, she leads me to the end of the bridge where a flower garden awaits. We sit on a wooden bench and look up to watch the butterflies. When I avert my eyes to my company, she has picked up a red rose from among the bed of buds.

"Enjoy it now," she hands the rose to me. It's most certainly the most beautiful. "You're not going to remember all these when you return to your body."

"Of course I will!"

"Jesse," she points out. "It's his third time in the Limbo. To him, it's always the first."

_What? _Is there any way you'd win this game?

"Frustrated?" she inquires, referring to my sentiment.

I cringe my nose, unsure. "I don't want to forget any of this."

"You will forget, we will forget. It won't matter."

_No._

"Can you do me a favor, Chloe?" she asks, and who am I to refuse? "Just in case. Would you go and try to look for me? I know it's a big favor. I mean, where on earth are you going to start searching for a stranger, right? But say, a miracle happens… could you tell my loved ones I'm doing just fine? I would really appreciate it."

I want to say that she would do it herself because she's getting out of here. But the look on her face, the glint in her eyes; she's not going to risk losing that one last memory, whatever that is. And so I nod my head in agreement.

"Are you sure it's not Aubrey, Beca?" I make it sound like a friendly tease.

And she's riding along. "Why, would it be a problem?"

"No!" I exclaim, taking it seriously. _Hell no!_ So what if it's Aubrey? It's not like I'm a party in interest. "I'm getting married. Soon."

_Completely irrelevant information to this on-going conversation, Chloe._

"Oh really?" she appears innocently not affected by the news at all. In fact, she has a _huge_ smile plastered on her face. "Who's the lucky guy, huh?"

"Uh..." See? I can't even recall my own fiancé's name. So now I'm clearing my mind, throwing out the unnecessary boxes, and recollecting only the essential ornaments. Hmm… There's a memory – it's his birthday party, and I'm holding up his cake for him. "Bob? Bill? Bart? Brent? Ben? Ben... I think…"

"Ben," she repeats. "Sounds to me like there's also someone waiting for you to go back."

I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly. It's different now. Ben, if that's really his name, is an entire world away where I no longer belong. I hold the rose in my grip and then look into Beca's eyes. Suddenly, it feels like home. Suddenly, I don't feel like going back.

* * *

><p>"Don't you <em>ever <em>contribute again," Rem is giving her best friend a lecture as I arrive at my front yard. "You ruined the movie! Not cool, dude."

"What happened?" I question.

"Fight Club ends with some slight changes," answers Fat Amy.

"_Slight?_" barks the other. "You call it 'slight'?"

"So the Narrator shots himself to put an end to Tyler's shenanigans then the gang brings in Marla. She goes ballistic, and holds Neville at _wand_point, you know. When all hell breaks loose, she goes _uber _crazy and casts the Killing Curse on Sirius Black. So of course, Harry-"

She makes an abrupt halt, glances at Rem then at me then back at Rem. Her eyes and mouth grow wide at the realization. "Oops… wrong movie."

"You think?" Rem shoots back.

"I have to find Jesse," the Australian doesn't bother to make a quick goodbye as she swiftly runs out of the yard.

"And _you_," my so-called guardian angel puts me into the hot seat. Wow, someone's cranky. "Where have you been, huh?"

"I was with my very good friend _Aubrey Posen_," I reply proudly.

She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. "Look at you, dying and still finds an excuse to lie. For your information, ginger, I've been in all tents _simultaneously_, and I know you never came in any of them."

"Whatever," is all I can come up with.

"'Someone' left something for you," she glances at the doorstep where a small box lies.

I disregard that weird malicious face Rem is wearing and pick up the box. _An early wedding present, _the card reads. I open it, impatiently – a butterfly brooch. I run my fingers over the material; it's the closest I can be to actually touching Beca.

"_Ahem, _slut."

I glare at Ms. Pretty Face for ruining what could have been a good movie ending.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Songs: _**_(1) The Chords - Ss-boom (Life Could Be A Dream) (2) Meatloaf - Paradise by the Dashboard Light (3) Temper Trap - Sweet Disposition_


	5. Sending a Message in a Bottle

_**anon **(on Chapter 2): Just the kind of reaction from readers I'm aiming for. You can give it some time._

**_anon_**_ (on Chapter 4): That would be nice. Thank you._

**_madness2013:_**_ Helena Bonham Carter; I tend to mix up her characters sometimes. LOL._

**_Guest_**_ (Nov 18): Bechloe eh!_

**_BeChloeFan01: _**_I had my eyes closed too while writing it, just letting the ideas flow out of my mind and my fingers to type the words in. It's great. I felt whatever Chloe felt. :)_

**_50 Shades of Pitch Perfect:_**_ :)_

**_Guest_**_ (Nov 18): Music provides me the inspiration._

**_Guest _**_(on Chapter 1): I hope I didn't disappoint._

* * *

><p>CHAPTER FOUR: <strong>Sending a Message in a Bottle<strong>

Sharing some chortle, Beca and I sit at the foot of an open fridge, happily painting funny faces on all the eggs. I can't trace whose idea it was, and who knows how long have we been sitting here when our ghostly bodies do not recognize what should have been emitted as cold temperature? Before working on an egg, Beca would dip her brush among the colors on the palette and stroke onto my arm, leaving tiny streaks of paint not on my skin but right inside my transparency. My left arm will soon resemble Rem's dip-dyed hair.

"Check this out." I carefully place two eggs, green and purple, on the skelter following a red, a yellow and a sky-blue, making sure the faces are on display. "_Voilà_!"

"What the hell are those?"

"Teletubbies!" I cry out the obvious. I mean, the antennas I painted on top are a sure giveaway. "And Noo-Noo, of course."

She scoffs at my masterpiece and pulls out her own egg rack from the fridge. "You're actually proud of it? Here, check out mine. _These _are real pieces of art, my friend. And not just for an Easter bunny standard."

Next to a bunch of simply creative funny faces is the entire band of the original KISS.

"So let me get this straight," I say. "As a soul, you remember a _tad_ of a _single_ memory, one and only, right? And then KISS."

"Are you mocking me?" she speaks in an annoying legitimate chipmunk voice.

I cringe my nose; I _hate _that voice. It gives a certain tick in my head that sends a vibrating repulsion all over my body.

"Hello! My name is Chloe," she continues to talk in that chipmunk voice oh so fluently, teasing me even more. "I'm a pretty redhead who paints teletubbies and blue vacuum cleaner on eggs. Oh, and I'm a cool kid 'cause chipmunks annoy me to death. Now I hate my _super _awesome friend, Beca, because she's _totally _nailing it."

I throw her a look, but she doesn't stop.

"Oh no, Beca! You're making her mad now. It's so scary. Chloe is going to get you now. Run for your life, Beca! Run!"

"Haha!" I let out a sarcastic laugh. "Very funny! What else do you have there, Theodore?"

I should have known better and never asked. It's a rhetorical question! _Damn it. _She picks up Starchild egg for a make-believe microphone and begins belting out a song, channeling her inner Beyoncé with a twist of Chipettes.

_[All the single ladies, all the single ladies  
><em>_All the single ladies, all the single ladies  
><em>_Now put your hands up]_

And she's up on her feet. Oh god, kill me now.

_[Up in the club, we just broke up,  
><em>_I'm doing my own little thing  
><em>_Decided to dip and now you wanna trip  
><em>_'Cause another brother noticed me]_

"I get the point, Beca."

_['Cause if you liked it, then you should have put a ring on it  
><em>_If you liked it, then you should have put a ring on it]_

"I can't believe you know the lyrics to this song and not remember your own parents' names," I'm shaking my head playfully, disapproving. "But seriously, dude."

"Common knowledge," she uses her normal voice in that very short pause before resuming with the song. I have never missed hearing someone's voice this much!

I catch my head eventually moving to the rhythm and myself becoming amused by the little impromptu intermission number. I'm putting all the blame on Beca. I take the egg rack from her hands, to get it out of the way of her performance. Perhaps, I can let her enjoy the spotlight; she probably never had much fun since arriving at the Limbo. As I turn towards the fridge, however, the egg rack drops beyond my will; my skelter, on the other hand, remains solidly in my grip. The eggs she worked hard painting have cracked open on the floor.

"I am so sorry," I sincerely apologize, looking at the reaction on her face. She has nothing except from her mouth nonchalantly hanging open in lieu of a more convincing expression of surprise. "I didn't mean it. I swear."

"Yeah, we should have definitely boiled them first."

She's incredibly calm, thankfully, when a silly idea suddenly pops in her brainless head. She picks up an egg from my skelter and drops it on purpose. I'm baffled. What's happening? I look at her; she sighs blissfully, staring at the mess on the floor. She gets another egg – no, not Dipsy! I like Dipsy – then deliberately relinquish it again. She laughs, and I'm more than...

"Confused?" she supplies the appropriate description as she finally recalls my presence. "There's something… _satisfying _about the cracking of the egg. Why don't you try it?"

"I-I'm not sure about that," I decline. I'm not that crazy yet.

She fishes out another egg for me. She makes me raise my hand, palm open, and cautiously place the delicate object on top of it, assuring that I'm 'solid' enough to handle it. I move my fingers to clench the egg just a little earlier than I have to be, racing against the circumstance, hoping to get a touch of Beca. Even just a little bit of her, a hint. But somehow, I'm too late. My tangibility wanes into impalpability; my fingers pass through her hand, and the egg simply flops into the floor. I look at her, and she looks back at me. Does she know what I was trying to do? If yes, then she's not saying it out loud. Or she doesn't care.

"What in Satan's name are you two doing?"

Rem has appeared close by, right by the small gap between us, ferreting about our little mess. Is she allowed to do that, just pop in the middle of a silent conversation between two pairs of blue lagoons?

"Are you two starting a food fight? 'Cause that's not how it's done, kiddos."

She retrieves a whole chocolate fudge cake from the fridge, takes a significant amount of it with her bare hand, and spreads the chocolate fudge, first, over my face then Beca's.

"There you go," the blonde ghost announces proudly. "Something to start with, eh? Now carry on."

Quietly, we watch her disappear into the hallway, coolly dragging along what seems to be a perfect replica of an Excalibur. What the hell has this crazy woman decided to do this time? Diverging my attention, on the other hand, Beca culls an egg from the skelter and shows it to me in response to Rem's sudden intrusion – it's a funny face mockingly sticking its tongue out. And we end how we started, sharing some chortle.

* * *

><p>"Chloe, hi!" Aubrey meets us at the end of the line to the food truck. "And you, too, Vanilla Skittles."<p>

"Yo bitch," is Rem's simple reply with a little salute to go along with it. _Hmm… Vanilla Skittles._

We join Fat Amy at a stone table at an elevated picnic area in the park, overlooking the ethereal version of the Conservatory Water, just several meters away from the waters. Our Australian friend is already hallway through her third hotdog sandwich judging by the number of scattered foil sandwich bags around.

"Are you supporting anyone today?" I ask our guest, referring to the Boat Race that's happening any minute now where the ghost kids compete against each other with the fastest toy boat to emerge as the winner of what must be a treasured replica of the Excalibur.

"Maverick," she nods her head as she answers, scanning the crowd for the adorable kid who's stroking his boat like Aladdin with his magic lamp. "The kid is set to beat out Hank. I hate Hank. Major Bully and Periwinkle, that monstrous child."

"I'll go with Bumper," Fat Amy speaks with her mouth full. "He's super cute."

I thought the race is exclusive for the kids. I guess age doesn't matter, after all. It's the level of maturity, or _immaturity_, which counts.

"But can I keep this?" Rem adores the beauty of the Excalibur, running her hand over its length and giving it a little swing. Thank goodness there's no way she could kill anybody in this land of the dead. "I can do something like chopping off the head of the newly arrivals, pretend it's like a fraternity initiation, convince them they have to do it or they'd go straight to hell. Oh I can just imagine the look on their faces. That would be very cool, man."

_What a way to be welcomed to the Limbo!_

"Then you should have joined the race, idiot," her best friend points out, still chewing loudly.

"I don't know the first thing about boats."

"They're just little toys!"

"Still!" insists the other. "Besides, Beca thinks this day is rightfully 'for kids only'. My role here, _our_ role here as _adults_ is being in charged with cheering duties."

Am I the only one here who does not qualify Death By Chocolate and Vanilla Skittles as adults?

"Speaking of Beca," Aubrey chips in. "Yeah, I was hoping you could tell me where she might be lurking around the moment. I really need to talk to her."

The freaks direct their eyes towards me. Apparently, I'm the lost and found box now when it comes to the reclusive brunette. Well, I didn't get the memo. And who am I to have the privilege to be well-informed about her whereabouts, nonetheless? So as to not tend to Aubrey's anticipation, I immediately shake my head. Before long, cheers erupt at Conservatory Water when the boat race finally commences. Fat Amy scoops the remainder of her meal to stand in order to get a better look at the contest, representing the rest of us 'in-charge with cheering duties'. Rem sneaks out a medium-sized onion rings from her oblivious best friend's cradling arms and offers it to us.

"No, thanks." Miss Posen tactfully yields a friendly smile as she prepares herself to leave. "I don't actually have the luxury of time. That's my cue right there. I gotta go. I need to find Beca… before it's too late."

King Arthur does another salute as a farewell and wish for luck. While she examines the legendary sword, I busy myself with watching Aubrey walk away. She's certainly anxious. Well, who could blame a dying soul?

"So what's the deal yo?" asks my inquisitive spirit. "Trouble in paradise?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know," I shrug my shoulders and purse my lips. "Aubrey… and Beca…"

Finally, Rem renders her attention away from the Excalibur. The muscles on her face contort in such a way that constitutes suspicion, and it's specifically being made for me. She rests lays the precious prize down on the table, rests her arm on a vacant space and leans forward.

"You're not suggesting…" I just know she's not going to construct this sentence correctly. "I mean…"

"Well…" is all I have to say to make her laugh hysterically. She's holding on to her stomach to contain herself and banging the top of the table with the other.

"Chloe." She tries really hard to stop sniggering. "Honey, sweet cheeks. I hate to break it to you, but tragically for all of us, the Limbo happens to be the perfect academy for celibacy. You can't even touch yourself, remember?"

"Even if James Dean is a free-for-all cocktail here, you have no choice but turn into a practicing Catholic," Fat Amy butts in.

The other adds, "Good… obedient… God-fearing Christian."

"I'm not talking about sex," I clear that out. "Seriously, guys, get out of people's pants."

"Then I'm signing out of this conversation," declares the Australian blonde without further ado.

"Okay." I get a sense that my guardian angel is leaning towards her mature side, I like that. I need that. "Look, you know Aubrey's time on earth is running out, right? She's probably just trying to win Beca over being that she's the Gatekeeper."

"Gatekeeper?"

"She mans the Gate," she says it as if I should have already known. Why do I get the feeling she forgot to tell me a lot of things? "The Gate is the most important gate ever. It leads either to death or back to the physical world depending on the fate of the soul who will be making the cross."

I have this strong disposition that there's more to it. I mean, so what if Aubrey convinces the brunette? Her appeal would remain rejected; she would still have to die.

That's when Rem leans closer to me, whispers, "Now what most people doesn't know is that there's another way to set the destination – the intention of the Gatekeeper _regardless _of the Timekeeper's final verdict. Having the job, Beca has control of the destination _meaning_ she has the power to revive _anybody_. So, if Aubrey manages to win her over, then she doesn't have to die just yet. In fact, she can return to her physical body in no time."

Alright, that's a lot to take in. "Why won't Beca revive herself instead?"

"Plot twist," she points at me using the sword. I'm predicting this woman has a criminal record back on earth. "She can revive anybody _except _herself. Oh, did I mention she's staying here forever? And this is a really terrible place, you know. You're nothing here. You're just an empty speck of dust floating around a futile stupor. _Beca_ will forever be an empty speck of dust."

"Why? _Why _would she choose such a thing?"

"I don't know…" she shrugs. "Comes with the job, perhaps… Something about her one last memory, most likely…"

_Worst than death. _This is it.

"Hey, where are you going?"

I didn't realize I was leaving my seat until Rem has pointed it out to me. I have to go, look for Beca. I need to see her now, _urgently._ I brisk walk pass every house on every street; I don't even know where she lives. I'm running out of options. There's only one place left – the rainforest.

* * *

><p>Definitely, I didn't think about this thoroughly enough. I think I'm lost. I don't remember passing through this section of the rainforest when Rem and Fat Amy took me here for my Trial. Hopeful, I yell out Beca's name every time I successfully hop over a giant root. Even the forest is dead, I notice – no signs of life like, perhaps, chirping birds. All I get is a visual representation which I have now come to grasp as a landscape of a contracted illusion.<p>

"Beca!" I try it once more. "Beca, it's me, Chloe!"

And then there's a sudden whoosh of wind from behind. Alarmingly, I turn around to find no one. Maybe it's just me? I can be acting all paranoid without me realizing it. Being human, it's a normal response to be afraid when you're out on your own in an unfamiliar supernatural rainforest. The danger though is real. I look up, and the dark grey sky falls upon me.

I flump down on the ground, surrounded by a thick black smoke rotating like a tornado, and I'm right at the middle of the vortex. Either it's shoving air into my lungs, or it's stealing away every last breath I have. I'm choking in the strong current, although it feels more like drowning despite the absence of water. Now I'm paralyzed, helpless, while the strings of memories escape out of my soul – there goes prom night, first kiss, piano recital, etc. Consequently, my vision too is clouding. I'm about to black out.

* * *

><p>The sound of the waves crashing into the shore seems all too real for me; and the heat of the sun – gosh, I miss the burning and cancer-producing heat of the sun. I feel a lurch in my body, and in a flash, I franticly sit up fully awake.<p>

_Beach. _I'm at a beach, on the sand. I blink my eyes a couple of times to adjust them to an entirely different environment than that of the foggy rainforest. As my vision clears up, I spot Beca standing by the ebb. Her back is facing me, but I know it's her. Thus, I promptly get on my feet and dash to the water.

"Beca, what's going on?"

She stares at me blankly, I almost feel like I don't know her. No, _she _doesn't know who I am.

"Beca," I repeat her name, attempting to establish that I'm not just some stranger soul she meets on a beach. "Beca, it's me. It's Chloe."

The expression on her face spells out confusion. I have to reiterate over and over again who I am and who she is. I recall the feeling of being worried, and that's exactly what's taking over me right now. Involuntarily, I grab her hand, but of course, I'm not able to touch her. It's just like waving my hand to the wind.

"Chloe…" she finally remembers, relieving me from my fretfulness. Her voice is trailing off as if her mind fine-tunes itself. "I… I-I couldn't move you, so I had to let you lie down like that."

"No, no. _What _has just happened? The black smoke, I saw it. Did it get you too?"

"I told you the rainforest is dangerous," she casually answers, monotonous even. "It's an off the latch territory where all creatures are permitted to enter without clearance. I think the Soul Hunters are obsessed with you, Chloe. You have profusion of memories; they're feeding off of you."

"What happened to you?" I have to ask. Forget about me. I'm looking into her eyes, and the flicker that used to be so alive is diffused. That's the only part of her that is closest to life as possible. Something's not right. "Beca, please. Talk to me."

She let out a foolish chuckle. "I'm sorry. It happens."

What happens? That no matter how my Trial goes, I survive or not, she will forget me? That no matter how many memories we make together in this plane, we will both lose them all eventually? Nothing has changed yet, but she's already almost gone.

"You're upset," she takes a guess.

"Frustrated." I walk away from the water and find a seat on the white sand. "Is this because you're staying here forever?"

"I don't remember telling you that. But I know I didn't."

"Limbo is not really that big of a place to bury a secret."

She looks at me, and I meet her eyes. There, I see sense of life again. That's the Beca I know of. She begins treading towards the shore and sits next to me, our eyes fix on the horizon.

"One last memory, Chloe," she reminds me. "That's all I have left."

"You're going to hold on to it forever, then what? What happens after that?"

"I don't get to be lonely all the time."

And my whole world freezes. I'm wrong. I thought being empty is just being completely nothing, insignificant, just a speck of dust as Rem puts it. But it's not. It's much more than that. Emptiness is the absence of everything. To sum it up in one word: _loneliness. _

"I've just boarded a plane," she tries to recollect that one and only memory, eyes shut close momentarily. "I secure my bag into the overhead cabin then take my seat. I'm about to turn off my cell when it starts ringing. It's just a ring… I'm already smiling like I'm the happiest person in the world. What do you call it? Love, is it? I want to feel that again, like for real."

"And you can do that," I promise something I absolutely should not. "You will. I will help you."

Laughing, she gives me a ridiculous look. Fine, it sounds ludicrous. But no, I'm going to do it. I have to try.

"When I first arrived here, I can't control my soul." So I'm compelling the existence of a rationally persuasive case. "You're obviously more experienced with it and so were able to teach me how to execute that mind trick. 'Clear your mind'. Now between the two of us, in terms of emotions, I'm the one who has the leverage. Maybe I can do the same for you."

I have no idea if it's going to work, let alone if it's possible.

"Maybe I can teach you a trick. Maybe I can help you feel that way again."

Honestly, I don't know what I'm doing. I'm not sure about what I'm saying.

"You're a good friend, Chloe," she says. Yes, that's what I am – a good friend. "But that's too complicated. The mind trick is for your convenience. What you're proposing is not just a matter of expediency. You're about to disrupt the nature of things, you see. I'm a ghost. It's meant for me to lose my emotions. Soon you will too."

"That's why we must hurry," I counter. "We have to prep you up before mine fades. As soon as possible, yeah?"

Again, she laughs. Am I the only one who's taking this seriously?

"You're not going to drop this, are you?" she smirks. She already figures the answer.

With conviction, I assure her, "This is the only thing I permanently will never drop."

"Do you want to know the truth?" she consults me. Of course, I want to know the truth! "It's not the inevitability of your emotions fading away that's going to be the problem. It's the fact that you're going to leave. Soon."

I'm about to lose my cause. "You don't know that."

"Come on, Chloe. You have a very strong case. You have someone waiting for you, someone who needs you, someone that would justify a second chance. If you didn't miss your Trial that day, you must have been back to the physical world by now."

Fine, she wins.

"I'm not going to rob your shot at silver lining," she smiles. "You must leave me, I've known that for so long."

Damn it. When she voices it out, that I must leave her and I will… man, that's harsh.

"I would say upset but…"

"Embarrassed," I furnish. "Humiliated. Mortified."

"And I should tell you that it's okay."

"Human nature," I mumble.

"Hey, I specifically told you not to feel sorry for me!" she complains. Subsequently, she fetches a messenger bag close by – I didn't notice it earlier. She retrieves a clear glass botthe with a folded piece of paper sealed inside then leads me back to the ebb. "Here, look. This is a message for the man who gave me that call. I'm going to put it into the water and imagine that somehow it'll reach him so that even if I'm here, even if I don't remember him quite well, he would still know how I feel."

With that, she gently releases the bottle, letting the waves take it away and send it into a long journey. We stand there, eyes fix on it, and the beautiful orange horizon before us.

"Do you think it'll make it through?"

She shrugs, unsure. "Every cloud has a silver lining, Chloe."

"Right," I nod my head positively. I glance at her briefly, contemplating – whether or not I should blurt this next thought out. "I would hug you if I could."

I sense her lips curve into a smile. "I would have hugged you back."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Song: <strong>Single Ladies - The Chipettes version  
><em>

_If you haven't seen the Pitch Perfect 2 trailer, you should! **NOW!** It's so good you're either gonna cry or your emotions will mess up with your brain 'cause it'll give you so much excitement you can't handle. Let the countdown begin, Pitches! :)_


	6. The Final Verdict

**_Guest _**_(3hrs ago): You would have to stick around to find out._

**_Thalmor: _**_I'm not exactly sure what this is about, but I'll take it as a compliment. Thank you!_

**_50 Shades of Pitch Perfect: _**_Sorry I have to take a few days in between chapters._

**_cricket:_**_ This is ghost Beca. LOL. I always imagine the entire fandom in a single theater watching the sequel altogether. I think that would be cool!_

**_BeChloeFan01:_**_ Then I should warn you about the next events._

**_madness2013:_**_ Just doing my job._

**_Nyaaaaaaah:_**_ I hope I got the number of A's in your name right. We all are excited! I mean, who can blame us, right?_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER FIVE: <strong>The Final Verdict<strong>

_[Rocking around the Christmas Tree  
><em>_At the Christmas party hop  
><em>_Mistletoe hung where you can see  
><em>_Every couple tries to stop]_

I can't believe this, but it's really happening. This morning, I thought summer has just begun. Yet in the course of the day, the seasons have changed. Tonight, I'm braving the winter cold, watching in awe the graceful descend of the white Christmas snow. I look up in the night sky – neither are there stars nor the moon nor the foggy clouds; just a black canvass – and I wait for the flakes to land upon my skin. But they never did. They simply pass through my poor transparent body, like I never existed, and fall featly down into the icy ground.

_[Rocking around the Christmas Tree  
><em>_Let the Christmas Spirit ring  
><em>_Later we'll have some pumpkin pie  
><em>_And we'll do some caroling]_

_Swoosh._ Rem has dashed through me in the speed of a sports car it feels like I'm going to throw up. The rest of the hockey players – Jesse, Bumper, Benji, Fat Amy, Cynthia-Rose, and other souls I occasionally interact with – follow the lead causing my red strands to go flying uncontrollably everywhere. My eyebrows pull together to form the typical annoyed expression. Can't a girl have her moment in a peaceful manner free from rude interruptions?

"Guys, can't we all just calmly skate around the rink, please?" I shout out, swinging myself carefully to the side, so I'm facing the tall and bright Christmas tree standing firmly in the middle of the rink, surrounded by the group of ghost kids frolicking around it. "You know, like them, what they're doing."

Despite my effort, my so-called friends choose to ignore my laments and go on with the game, a Battle of Sexes. Somehow, despite our current state of supernatural subsistence, they find a way to exhibit athletic violence. This guy called Benji bents down his knees, missing the puck just a few milliseconds in interval. One quick stroke and Rem scores another one sweet goal for the girls' team. That's 4 to 1 in their favor. And the boys can't seem to take losing very well, groaning loudly in unison.

"Have you got any balls, Allen?" Fat Amy ridicules.

"Do you want to check them out for your own perusal, milady?" questions Bumper, his hands about to hold down his shorts in a botched attempt at being a gentleman.

Jesse urgently uses his hockey stick to smack away Bumper's hands and prevent the occurrence of a Rated-R movie. "_Gross._ Keep it in your pants, man. The kids are watching."

"What about you, Vanilla Skittles, my honeybee?" Ace Ventura has his eyes on the other team's team captain this time.

Rem flashes a sardonic smug and gives him the finger, you know, for his own perusal.

"Ooh the sexual tension right there, won't you agree?" I turn to my side to see a sarcastic Aubrey skating awkwardly to catch up with me. She's not an expert, it's not too hard to see.

"I bet he can't get the girl even in the physical world," I decide to join the fun.

"Whether Bumper likes it or not, he will _never_ get laid in this place."

"Sad truth," I mumble back. Must be hard to get turned down by women in two different planes.

"So did you celebrate Christmas when you were, you know, undeniably alive and as far away from death row as possible, Chloe?" she inquires, taking baby glides on the ice with me. "You seem like the type."

I nod my head slowly. "Yeah, I'd like to think so. Christmas seems like the kind of holiday I would most definitely enjoy."

"Have you got the perfect gift then?" she throws the question I can't relate to. "I'm sure you have. Oh, oh, who do you think is your Secret Santa, huh? Could it be Lilly? Oh, you're doomed because she gives the _worst _Christmas present?"

_Whoa, whoa. _I stop at my tracks and hold up my hand to get her to quit babbling. "Secret Santa?"

"Yes," she affirms, looking at me ridiculously because I seem to be surprised. I _am _surprised! "Everybody's in, you see. We're having this big community dinner at the diner later. Everyone must bring along their gifts 'cause we're doing the exchange right after."

Everybody is apparently already in, and this is only the very first time I've ever heard that we're going to do Secret Santa. I didn't even know we're having Christmas tonight! "Well, I was not informed."

"You missed the draw a couple of days ago. We let Rem pick out a name for you. Didn't she tell you?"

Of course… Rem… I should have seen this one coming. It's like written on the stars, _cemented _actually. I feel like I should be the one reminding her of things from now on, for my own sake. "Great, there will be one soul in the party who won't get a gift from his Secret Santa because _I_ didn't get him anything. How's that for Christmas?"

"Aw…" Aubrey either feels sorry for me or for the soul assigned to me. "Well, you can still get a gift 'til dinner."

"I don't even know who I got."

"Then just get something generic," she suggests which, she later realizes, is a terrible idea. "No! On second thought, that sucks. Big time… Hey, wait! I think I can help you out with this. My memory is kind of in its best condition as you might recall. Ah, let's see… I got Bumper… who picked out Rem… who picked out Lilly…"

And she goes on and on with her method of deduction. Her memory really is in its best condition – the only positive thing about being dead. I'm impressed at how she is able to name every soul in this supernatural community and be able to memorize everybody's Secret Santa. Although, I thought this is something we should be doing in complete _confidentiality._

"Oh," she suddenly halts, tilting her head to the side, contemplating. "What are the odds?"

"What? Do you have it? Do you know who was drawn by Rem for me?"

It's just starting to sink in to me that I could have just asked my guardian angel for it. But who knows? She might have forgotten all about it already, knowing her.

"Beca," Aubrey answers with a knowing smirk. Is she quite suggesting something? "And guess whose name she picked out of the fish bowl a couple of days ago… it's you, Chloe."

_Wow_, I breathe out. I'm astounded, _speechless_. What are the odds, indeed.

"Have yourself a merry little Christmas, Chloe!"

I accept Aubrey's friendly gesture, paying no attention to the fact that it's stained with mockery. Thank goodness, blushing fiery red is not an available option in the Limbo.

* * *

><p><em> Just act normal and pretend you are<br>__happy with this piece of paper.  
><em>_Real gift after dinner.  
><em>_xoxo, Chloe_

I read it over and over just to make sure I have the right note before putting it back in a small envelope then slip it into the pocket of my jacket. I think I got this. I think I have just the perfect gift for Beca. And I can't wait for her to see it.

"Hurry up, Chloe!" Fat Amy yells out from downstairs. "We're going to be late."

Again, time doesn't work in the Limbo. It's strictly impossible to be late without the presence of time. Nevertheless, I fetch a pair of gloves from the bed and dash down the stairs. My friends are already at the door, and as soon as one of my foot has step into the ground level, Rem opens the front door for our most anticipated exit. But a little delay – a piece of paper – awaits us at the doorstep.

"Looks like you have an early present." I snatch the paper away from Vanilla Skittles before she can even read the first letter.

"I can take it from here," I assure her.

"As long as we're leaving."

_Agree, no problem. _They lead the way out of the house. I follow them silently and sneak a glance at the piece of paper, hiding away a little smile.

_ Please pretend I gave you something nice.  
><em>_You'll have to wait to get your real gift though.  
><em>_Love, Beca_

* * *

><p>"Where exactly are you taking me?"<p>

Barely staying on her feet as she tries to move around restrained by a pair of skates, Beca blindly clutches one end of the bandana we borrowed from Rem, and I guide her path by pulling her through the other end of the piece of cloth.

"Just trust me, alright?" I tell her. "And don't you dare steal a peek!"

She laughs. I know if she wanted to peek, she would have done it a long time ago. We arrest at the center of the rink where the giant Christmas tree previously erected. Beca and I stand across each other, only she doesn't have a single clue that I'm slightly taking advantage of the situation. I take this fateful opportunity, possibly the one and only, to steal one good look at my not so Secret Santa.

I blame it on the Limbo for being such a depressing place; on the Soul Hunters for messing up my memories; on the Timekeeper for postponing my Trial; on Rem for picking out the name, of the hundreds of potential candidates; on Aubrey for giving me that knowing look; on Ben, my dearest fiancé, for not being here right now; and most especially, on this extraordinary brunette for her mere being. Sweet baby Jesus, she's breathtaking.

In the silence of the December solstice, I imagine my heart beating out of cadence. The temptation of pulling her closer is right around the corner of my mind. Just an effortless tug on the bandana would do the trick. But I won't. I'm not going to do such a cruel thing to myself. Because even if I reach out, I can never touch her silky smooth skin. Even if I lean in, I can never plant a kiss on her strawberry lips. And even if I try, she will never be mine.

"Chloe?" she croaks. "Please tell me you're still there. Otherwise… screw you."

It's my turn to laugh then sigh. _I'm still here_, I want to guarantee her. I'm just here, begging for a few more moments together, because all of this feels like a dream, and soon, I'm afraid I'm going to wake up back to a part of me that is oblivious to her magnificence.

I pull her a little closer, a harmless distance, and whisper, "You can open your eyes now."

_ [I wanna touch the northern lights]_

The pair of dark blue orbs reveal itself as her eyes flutter open. I steer her gaze upwards and watch her jaw slowly drop in amazement. I get the same feeling every time I see these dancing lights.

_ [We could leave the world behind  
><em>_I wanna know what it's like  
><em>_To walk away from this life]_

"It's beautiful," she murmurs, her lips generously form a grin. "I don't suppose I remember what it is."

"Aurora borealis," I reply as I look down at her face. The humanly bliss painted across her features, it's more fascinating than whatever spectacular phenomena nature can offer. "Also known as the Northern Lights."

She wastes no time tugging the bandana down as she takes a seat on the flattened ice, making sure I retire along with her. Not even for once does she withdraw her sight from the glowing arcs and streaks on the sky. Side by side, we lie down on our backs; our dying bodies remain unaffected by the supposed effects of winter cold.

"I take it you like my gift," I say. Never do I take my vision away from her; she's still overly mesmerized by the marvel of the colorful aurora, and I'm mesmerized by her.

She shakes her head, yet ironically, a big smile is plastered on her lips. "I've never seen anything like this. Not that I know of. It's the most perfect gift, Chloe. Thank you."

"I expect you to top it," I joke, and she chuckles. Something about her resembling a little sense of life that makes me feel alive myself. She's like a magnet to me.

_[I __have to cross entire oceans way  
><em>_I __want a moment of her time]_

"I have no clue about what you're feeling right now," she says.

Should I tell her? "Do you remember the expression 'swept me off my feet'?"

"No."

"That's how I feel."

She lets out a little snicker. "I could have never guessed."

_[She nev__er wants to fall in love again  
><em>_And every kiss would be a cry  
><em>_Maybe she suffers for the thrill of it all  
><em>_But I know she's thinking when she fall]_

In silence, we remain. We enjoy the serenity we share as we lie awake; the green, blue, and purple aurorae dance before us. I could honestly live forever in this moment. Forget the fact that she's so close yet too far. If only. I wonder if Beca feels the same way.

"Chloe, I told you not to do it."

_What? _What have I done? I'm bewildered.

"I'm fine just like this," she continues to ramble while I'm still clueless. "You live or you die, you're going to leave just the same. So stop. Stop this now. You're just going to destroy me."

_Destroy her? _No, I would never do that. "I-I don't understand, Beca."

"Stop it," she tells me one more time. Her eyes, they're gloomy and imploring. It's as if she's about to break apart; that if only she's capable of, tears would cloud her eyes. God, what did I do? There's emotion in her right now, and it's not good. "Stop trying to make me feel it again. Don't. Just don't. _Don't _make me fall for you, Chloe."

And I freeze, like the winter snow. _Fall for me?_ But I'm not even doing anything. I'm so conscious and cautious not to do anything. _Why? _Why would she say that?

"Okay…" I hear my own voice. "I won't… I'm sorry…"

That, somehow, calms her down. She offers me a half-smile I hardly make out what it means. Then, I catch her bury herself in a pile of obscurity as she directs her eyes back to the Northern Lights. She's vanishing again before me, and there's nothing I can do about it. Nothing but to let it all happen. So I pull myself away, voluntarily, and stare up in the sky, so helpless.

"Happy Christmas, Chloe."

I'm not sure; it could be just my imagination – she rests her hand upon my hand, they literally overlap. Discreetly, I scoot a little closer and imagine my fingers intertwine with hers.

"Merry Christmas to you, Beca."

_Damn it._ I'm the one falling for her. And I'm well-aware it's the wrong place, the wrong time.

* * *

><p>So Beca and I stayed on the rink all night long. That's just as much forever as I can get with her, nothing more. Dead beat, I drag my soul down the pavement; sometimes, I lose control and my feet would get stuck in the solidified cement. It kinda feels like strutting the Walk of Shame, and it probably is. <em>Fucking one-night stand.<em> I check my mailbox out of habit; as usual, it was unfilled. My gaze sets on the front door and I find my guardian angel sitting on the doorstep. Our eyes meet, inaudibly, yet something about it tells me she's already on the same page.

"What do you want?"

But she only pats on the space next to her on the wooden surface. I try to rebel for a second before eventually giving up to her command. I drag my weightless soul towards the door, sitting next to her on the steps – it's probably the most _customary_ circumstance I've ever been with this crazy woman.

"That's not the face of someone who just got back from a most-wanted date," she begins. "Yes, it's that obvious, cupcake. We talked about you guys at the diner right after you left."

"It's not a date," I can only mumble back. "And I'm engaged to be married."

She scoffs in contempt. I hate her. So fucking much.

"What do you want?" I repeat my disregarded query.

"What do _you _want?" she throws the question back to me, and I am so not in the mood for this mind game. A ghost on a pathetic tantrum mode.

"I'm tired," I reply, leaving my seat. "I'm going to sleep. You can come in if _you _want."

"Lucky for you, you're about to have choices."

_Choices. _I like choices. So I stay.

"I brought news," she says. "Good and bad. Which one would you like to be preoccupied first?"

"Good," because I can really use that right now. Besides, I don't think there's a 'bad news' that can even be worse than what I am currently in.

She exhales loudly, as if her soul is capable of respiration. "So the Timekeeper postponed your Trial, right? Well, I managed to squeeze you in. Now you have a brand new, earlier schedule, which means you're going back to earth earlier than expected."

Which means I'm leaving the Limbo earlier than expected. No, Rem's right. It's a good news. It's _supposed_ to be a good news. It's what I wanted in the first place.

"Then you can finally marry your fiancé," she adds sarcastically. "Best wishes, Chloe."

I glance at her. "And the bad news?"

"I hate to ruin one hell of a _'friendship'_," she ensures to include the proper unnecessary airquotes to make her point, "but you can't be attached to Beca. I mean, that's if you really want to go back. Remember what I told you before? Be human if you want to be human again. Beca, unfortunately, is a perpetual ghost. She's the least you should be attached with."

See, Chloe? See? Another reason as to why not fall for her!

"But if you're thinking what I think you're thinking," she chuckles before a short pause. "Be my guest, sweetheart."

"What do _you _think?" I can't believe I'm actually recruiting for _her_ advice.

She's shaking her head, amused. She finds it silly, too. "For most people, a second chance is like winning the lottery. In your case, you have just the right numbers. Plus, you have the will to live. Nobody else has that anymore. It's the first thing they strip you off as soon as you get here in the Limbo. Appeals are just a desperate attempt at survival for the sake of it."

"I want to live," I respond. But I want Beca too.

Perhaps, she has read my mind because she doesn't do anything to affirm it. She stands up, ready to go. "Sleep it off, alright? I'll see you at lunch."

* * *

><p>Why? <em>Why <em>can't it be a castle, a big palace made out of marble? Why does the Timekeeper have to reside in a filthy dangerous forest? I clear out my way from the jungle vines with my bare hands as I trace down my docents' footpath. Can't we just teleport our way to the portkey?

From a few meters, I can distinguish the brink of light poking out of the tiny gaps in between the big-leaved perennials. We're almost there. Being on the front of the line, Rem pushes the humongous leaves away and holds it in place until Fat Amy and I have crossed. I'm not surprised to see the floating ball of blinding light. But the presence of other souls has left me flabbergasted.

"We came to say goodbye," Aubrey speaks for the pack.

_Goodbye?_

"You're going straight back to your physical body after the verdict is presented," explains Fat Amy.

So, this is the last time I'm going to be with them. But I'm not prepared for a goodbye yet! The brooch is still back in my house. Will they transport it to the physical world as well or, as they put it, it will be forgotten too just like everything else in this plane?

Our goodbyes are fast and simple. I barely know all of them anyway. They would say, 'It's been nice to meet you' then I would reply in the most modest manner. Before long, I arrive at the end of the line. There's one more soul to face – Beca.

"You still owe me a gift," I mutter.

She smirks. "You would have to stay at least one more day to get it. But today, you have a shot at a silver lining."

"Screw you."

"I'll be here the second time around," she promises. I'm certain that she can keep it.

Still, I drop my gaze away from her eyes. This is fucking hard. I find her delicate hands on either sides. Forget about the others watching. I slowly move my own hand towards hers, and she meets me halfway. We both try to grab on, but as anticipated, it's like trying to touch something from a 3-D movie. She's right here, yet out within my reach.

"Chloe, you don't want to be late this time."

Rem's voice penetrates my senses. She's right; I can't miss this schedule. I turn my back on my Farewell Party and face the enormous sphere of light. I stare at it for a while, letting my memories rush in my head just to make sure I still have them. I guess I'm ready. I'm ready to go back, to Ben, and to leave everything in this world behind. Unfaltering, I touch the sparkling electricity on the edges. I'm sucked into a black hole in a blink of an eye. I scream at the top of my lungs, twirling and spinning around out of fashion.

With a thud, I plummet on the ground, lying on my stomach. Coughing out as if my throat is clogged with water or choking out of air, I have to hold on to a tree trunk to keep me steady. I look around the vicinity – I'm no longer in the forest. My body shivers, hearing the eeriness of the rustling leaves and the creak of the swings in the playground. This is oddly familiar to me. I recognize my house nearby, so I run to it as fast as I can. I just know something is not right.

I slam the front door shut and lock myself in. One big mistake. The house is filled with black smoke, the Soul Hunters. I clench on the knob for dear life, but it's useless. I'm still vulnerable to the powers of these dark clouds. My memories… they're taking them away…

"Identification."

The ethereal voice of the Timekeeper haunts me. Or so I thought. I wake up – so weird – grasping for air. I suddenly find myself standing before the ball of light, all on my own, for my Trial. Wait, what the fuck.

"Identification," the Timekeeper repeats.

"I…" I stammer, my lips in tremor. _No. _No, no, no… "I-I don't know what to say."

And it doesn't any further question. I stand there, my entire soul trembling and my mind completely befuddled, waiting for that precious final verdict. God, I've never felt this empty.

* * *

><p>I sit on my doorstep, almost paralyzed and catatonic. It's raining, I think. I'm not sure. And I should be soaking wet by now if I weren't a dying soul. My ghost friends, I think I can see them rushing towards me. They look worried and confused; their words though, I can't seem to comprehend them. I open my mouth courageously to convey something I think is important. "I'm dead."<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Songs: <strong>(1) Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree - Brenda Lee (2) Northern Lights - Jaymes Young_


	7. Étretat

_**bluecolline: **Thanks for the lovely review. :) And sorry for making you wait._

**_BeChloeFan01: _**_You have no idea how much time I waited to use that song! LOL._

**_Guest_**_ (Nov 26): Wait ti... oh I'm not going to spoil you._

**_50 Shades of Pitch Perfect:_**_ Yes, yes..._

**_cricket:_**_ Come on, cut her some slack. You know you're enjoying it though._

**_ANON:_**_ It's supernatural. Anything can happen from here._

**_madness2013: _**_Then this chapter should be a perfect way to make it up to you._

_I hope our American friends and everybody else who celebrates it had a great Thanksgiving! :)_

* * *

><p>CHAPTER SIX: <strong>Étretat<strong>

Full of joie de vivre and all carefree, I carry a tray of cookies and place it into the oven for baking. I give them a wink because the next time we meet, these mixtures will be delicious treats. I push the main oven door close then freak out. I see my reflection on the frame, but not my own face. It's a young lady, yet the circles around her eyes and the darkness in the rest of her soul cast a shadow of wickedness in her spirit. Blood flowing out of her nose and her eyes and her ears, I back away as fast as I can. Then everything around me instantly changes. There was void, a pitch black setting.

All I can hear is my own self breathing heavily; my back against something solid. I try to move, but my body is restricted in the confinements of a box – I'm caged in a box! I feel something in my palm, a lighter. Urgently, I light it up to dissect my surrounding. _Oh my god, _I gasp. I'm lying inside a coffin! Then I hear a thud, as if chunks of soil and rock hit the outside surface; they come one after the other, almost no interval. _I'm being buried_, my thoughts conclude. I'm being buried alive!

"No, stop!" I scream, using all my might to push my way out of the coffin to no avail. The dirt keeps on coming, and I feel like sinking further down the core of the earth. "Please stop! I'm alive! I'm alive! Stop it now, please!"

I sense something on my feet; I pause in full alert, my breath caught up in my throat. With only a faint beam to rely on, I wait; my anticipation building up as time goes by. _It's crawling._ It's crawling up my thighs, my torso, until I'm forced to face it. It's the creepy young lady, her face decaying, melting away, and so bits of her semi-liquefied skin drops onto my nose, my lips… She grins at me, her grimy crooked teeth on display.

"You're just as dead as I am," she hisses at me.

"No…" my voice starts quietly, almost just a string of air. Then I'm shouting, my body in convulsion. "No! No! No! No!"

"Chloe!" someone out of the picture yells out. "It's okay! You're fine now! It's just a dream, Chloe! It's just a dream!"

But my brain and body refuse to believe it. I continue to panic, losing all sense of control, struggling against my horror as I twist and turn on the bed. She tries to contain me by wrapping the blanket around my partially concrete soul and holds me down.

"It's just a dream, Chloe!" she repeats in a hint of urgency, likely worried. "You have to wake up now! Chloe!"

I open my eyes, waking up from a terrible nightmare. I meet a pair of hazel eyes, staring down at me. I stop, guarded, begin processing my new environment – I'm back in my room, in my bed. I open my mouth, trembling. "Rem."

"Yes," she nods her head for confirmation, releasing me from her grip, freeing me from the imprisonment of the blanket. "Just another bad dream, you understand?"

A horrible nightmare is what she means. All my memories are supposed to flash inside my mind in a calm and serene manner, to bid me a peaceful goodbye as I gear up towards death. But I am, as they call it, a special case – the first idiotic soul to ever lose her memories to the Soul Hunters. The frequent occurrence of nightmares is just one of the side effects. Feeling drained is a whole other dimension of it. It's a Dementor's kiss, the kiss of death, the first step to hell.

"You have a visitor by the way," she informs me, cocking her rainbow head on the side.

That's when I notice the brunette quietly observing by the door – it's the first time she has come for a visit. She's not capable to show it, but I know she's even more troubled by my misfortune than I am. I avert my eyes from our sight's point of intersection; I don't want her to see me this miserable.

"Fat Amy needs a hand in the kitchen," my guardian angel breaks the unbearable silence. "I guess I should go and help her."

Rem fidgets on the knot of the bandana tied around her arm as she clumsily treads out of the room, pausing shortly to shoot the brunette an awkward look before vanishing completely out of the picture. How can she leave me with a perpetual ghost? It doesn't matter now, does it? I'll be dead anyway. _In three days,_ as the Timekeeper puts it, which means _'anytime' _in Limbo language?

"How are you feeling?" asks Beca.

"Sophie's Choice," I reply with reference to one of the most depressing movies I've ever watched.

Her face conveys utter confusion. Of course she doesn't remember. I flop back down, conscious enough not to go all the way through the mattress. I hate this. I don't know which – the fact that I'm already as good as dead or that she's still out of my reach. This is bull. I'm running out of time, and I'm still thinking shit about her.

"You do realize that you never left this room again, right?"

_Yes. _I'm well aware of that piece of information, and it's a matter of choice. Perhaps, it's another side effect. Or perhaps, I've been trying to avoid her. I plan to see her again only on the day I have to cross the Gate. I should have known she's inevitable. And now she's crawling into the bed, pushing me aside with the aid of a big pillow to make room for her pint-sized body.

"What are you doing?" I demand, looking over the giant pillow to see her settling down on her spot.

She slaps the mattress lightly. "Your bed is a total comfy. I mean, I can't really feel the experience, but you know, there's something better about sleeping on a bed than napping against tree trunks."

"You sleep on tree trunks," I reiterate her words just to make sure I got it right.

"Nap," she corrects. Apparently, proper terminology is a bigger priority than the burden of discomfort. "I'm the Gatekeeper. I have to guard the Gate all the time, make sure nobody, who is not supposed to, cross it."

"But you're here right now."

"Why do you think paranormal stuff happens in the physical world?"

My mouth hangs open. I almost want to hit her, a little, if only I can.

"So I have few lapses," she shoots back. "I'm stuck here forever. I think that's enough punishment, isn't it? Besides, I usually leave a part of my soul near the Gate to scare away the foolish creatures from crossing."

"Why are you here, Beca?"

And it's her turn to glance at me, those blue eyes narrowing on me in contempt. "Wow, Chloe. I feel very much welcome. Thank you for the hospitality."

"Fine," I give in. "I'm sorry."

She pats the pillow as if it's my actual arm. "That's better."

"But why are you here, really?"

In an unprecedented move, she shoves the pillow that's keeping as apart; the impact of which extending to my soulful body. I scoff and shove the pillow back. Then she shoves back… it's not for long that we slip into a childish conduct. It's like a pillow fight but we stay on our sides of the line and throw random stuff at each other. It's only when our hands suddenly meet above the border – not touch, unfortunately. An imperfect decussation. The universe is speaking to us. _You, old fools. _ So we both pull our hands away, maintaining them within our camps and our gaze towards the boring ceiling.

"I'm…" her voice trails off as she contemplates on the suitable description, "…_glad_ that you're back. _Ecstatic _might be a more proper term_._"

In other words, she's overjoyed that I'm dead. I can't help but chuckle.

"Okay, that sounds better in my mind." I assume she's in grimace right now. Stupid colossal pillow blocking my view. "But the thing is I really did- _do _enjoy your company."

"And so do I," I reply, a beam across my face. Good, _can't blush._

"How are your memories?"

"They…" I purse my lips, perturbed. "The smoke did an awful lot of damage, I guess. Every memory is now tampered with a nightmare. I can barely sleep. Fat Amy said it's supposed to happen at ease."

From out of the blue, the giant pillow between us fades away like bubbles. I turn to my side and I find her eyes looking at me intently. "But you're okay. Rem said you are. You're okay, right, Chloe?"

"Yes," I say. I look at her, and I'm okay. One ghastly nightmare completely forgotten.

"A lie?" she inquires. So it's not just emotions that she's interested in determining now.

But it's gearing towards the negative, so I try to dismiss the notion by answering, "A promise."

"Same thing."

Something tells me some rebellious youngster taught her and inculcated the concept into her susceptible system. "Don't hang out with Rem too much. She's kind of crazy… not crazy crazy, just… in a sense, crazy weird_."_

"And that's supposed to be bad? But she did something really nice for you."

"What are you talking about?"

"She gave you a shot at a silver lining," reveals Beca. "She gave you her schedule. Now she's going to have to wait for a really long time again for her Trial."

The problem with ghosts is that we don't have a _shut up_ button. It doesn't matter if others are dying in guilt. I owe Rem something then. Who knows she could truly be my guardian angel?

"Karaoke nights," Beca blurts out. "Entertains her. Because, you know, booze."

"So you're going to help me out," I smirk.

"Why not?" she chips back. "Who cares if Soul Hunters sneaks out of the Gate, yeah?"

We are so going to get in trouble for it.

"Hey, you want to see something cool?" she sits up, _excited._ If she could, she would have tugged me to speed up the process. It's either she's becoming more human or I'm becoming more dead. Nevertheless, I prop myself up for whatever it is she has install as a result of ethereal ennui. "Close your eyes."

Because every magical thing that has ever happened in the Limbo starts with that phrase.

"All you have to do is trust me," I listen to her soothing voice. "And don't freak out."

At the signal, I use my sight. _Don't freak out? _Yeah, that's not going to happen. We're up miles high! Are those clouds flying across my body? I look down; my feet have no foundation to step onto and I can absolutely see the entire Limbo community from here in a birds-eye view, _literally._ And then I'm falling and falling and falling…

"Hmm…" Beca coolly floats along my drop. "Scared?"

"You think?" I'll be plummeting into the ground face first. It doesn't matter if I'm dead.

"I told you not to freak out."

"Too late now."

"Clear your mind."

"Well, I'm kinda _losing _my mind here!"

"Uh… close your eyes," she instructs, acting so calm, and it's supposed to calm my freaks too. "Peter Pan… happy thoughts… pixie dusts… stuff… I don't know… but it's supposed to work."

_Happy thoughts. _I'm standing in the middle of my mind, boxes scattered all around me. I'm supposed to clear them out and keep the ones with my happy thoughts. At first I thought it's another side effect of my black smoke dilemma – I check the moving truck and I find it empty. When I finally open my eyes, I realize all my happy thoughts now, all the boxes of memories that still matter to my existence are all concentrated into this one single soul - Beca.

"You're wonderful," she tells me with a grin as we make our descend.

I really wish I can hold her. To actually touch her would be heaven found and forever treasured.

"Now turn around," she directs me as soon as we land on the ground, looking over my shoulders.

And I do as I'm told. I can't really blame my jaw for dropping in such a graceless fashion, for _this _is a well-deserved moment. This is the most suitable time to recreate the infamous _'I am the King of the world'_ line of Mr. Leonardo DiCaprio. It's like when Simba was first presented as the heir to the throne, except before my very eyes is the stretch of, what I think might be if my memory serves me right, the turquoise waters of the English Channel as I stand like a tiny ant on top of the white cliffs of Étretat.

"Mind if I offer you breakfast, madam?"

I turn around to find Beca already sitting on a picnic blanket, unpacking the contents of the basket. I'm almost convinced she has this perfectly planned all along. Equip with a goofy smile, I temporarily abandoned the grandeur of the scenery to join the brunette at our rectangular sanctuary.

"Is this my Christmas gift?"

She simply snickers. "We've got waffles, cranberry sauce, eggs – hard-boiled, sunny-side up, scrambled, omelet – pancakes, of course, French toast, bacon, ham, sausage, grilled cheese, mashed potato, cereals, fruit platter, and breakfast burrito courtesy of Fat Amy. Drinks? There's coffee, fruit-flavored smoothie, cocoa, hot chocolate and I supposed water too."

"Wow..." I can only go on about being astonished. "Did... did you do all these?"

"Yes!"

She's lying; _way _too enthusiastic. I throw her a look fit for a six-year-old on the hot seat. "If you're going to be lying, Beca, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to stop all sorts of communication between you and Vanilla Skittles."

"Okay, fine," Beca mumbles, purses her lips in apprehension, "I got help from Cynthia-Rose and Fat Amy."

"This idea is not quite bad for a ghost," I tease her, smirking. "It's romantic rather."

"Romantic." I'm not sure whether that intonation goes upward or downward. But I'm pretty sure she's trying to grasp the idea. "You think this is romantic?"

Even in my power of imagination, I strip off all possibility of displaying rosy cheeks while my tongue stammers. "Well... yes... romantic... in a... friendly... loving aspect... Yes, that... But take note of the _'friendly' _part. It's important that you take note of that."

"Friendly." Okay, I think she's just repeating words now with that disturbing vacancy on her face. It's not helping me at all. Am I doing something I'm not aware of again? Not make her fall for me, I get it. "So all of this, everything between us, is all _'friendly'_?"

Wait, is this a trap? Is it a pursue for humanly knowledge or something more than just one ghost's harmless curiosity? Oh I'm starting to hate breakfast. "It's complicated, Beca."

"I'm stuck here forever; you're dead."

I guess there's no other way to put it. The Gatekeeper has a point. I'm dead, which should make things as simple as they are. I don't have to worry about how I died; I will know it eventually. I don't have to worry about my memories; they will all come back to me before I make the cross. I don't have to worry about Ben; he will have to be okay without me. Things are a little different now than they used to. Problem remains, however, when the complication lies right in this momentary bliss.

"I'm still going to leave though," I remind her about what she seems to have forgotten. "I'm still going to have to leave you."

Hopeless in a way I've never seen her before, she stares at me.

"What is it?" I inquire.

"It's just... it would be really nice if you could stay."

"Yeah," I agree, letting out few bitter chuckles at how impossible the idea is. "I would love that too."

She pushes her plate away, losing her appetite, and focuses everything to me. "Hey, anything you want before you cross the Gate? Anything at all? Name it."

"Uh... like what?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "But, say you get to do something one last time before you cross the Gate, something worth remembering even if your mind is not able to retain it anymore, something we can sneak in behind the Grim Reaper's back... what would be it, Chloe? Tell me."

Stumped by her line of thoughts, I put myself under great deliberation. What would be it, really? Unlimited supply of Nutella? Have a superpower for a day? Be alive for one more time? I can honestly write a list of a million things, but I only have one answer.

"You," I look at her without a blemish of uncertainty. "I want to touch you. Even just for a second, even just for a tiny dot of you. I don't want to die into nugatory without knowing what it feels like to actually be with you."

Beca produces a smile, unexpectedly. Weary, it doesn't matter. The picnic blanket clears up, fadingly, as she scooches her way over to me. Her eyes fixed on mine every fleeting instant; her legs cross as she patches up in a very close distance from my position. I have no inkling what's going on inside that brunette head.

"We can try," she proposes and she raises her right hand with palm facing towards me. "And try really hard this time."

I glimpse at her awaiting hand. "Why?"

"Because seeing you disappear into the ball of light," she says, "and thinking we can both forget about one another's existence after that, I came to realize one important thing... okay, I don't know how to put it in an earthly language, but... Chloe, I need you just as much as you need me."

_What? _"You don't have to do this for me, Beca."

"No, I'm doing this for us."

_Don't, _I scream at myself reprimandingly. If this is a dream, don't you fucking dare wake up, Chloe. Just shut it and raise your hand. I meet her eyes when I'm more than ready.

"Take everything you have," I listen to Beca's directives. "Surrender them all onto this moment."

The amount of memories rushing inside me right now, regardless of the effect of the black smoke, if I could aggregate them all into one formidable entity, it should turn me into a physical being solid enough to be tangible. It's like arranging all my boxes, like particles, to maximize every space of my territory, and I'm so doing it very well right now. Both us radiate an anxious glow as we watch in anticipation how our hands inch closer and closer to each other. _Come on, universe. _Just this once.

Becoming more human and less of a ghost, the gust of the wind is more perceptible to my body with my hair acting as a barometer. Her fingers linger cautiously within a nanometer distance away from mine. One more move will make all the difference. As our hands grab on, however, they clench on air. I look at her; she gets it. I'm almost human, yes. But she's a perpetual ghost. Her one and only memory is not enough to make her tangible for me. It's _never_ going to happen.

* * *

><p>"Are you guys sure you can manage?" asks Rem. "I mean, I can come back if you need anything."<p>

Beca and I stay on the floor, a coffee table to separate us. I answer for both of us. "We can manage, don't worry. Just make sure Fat Amy and Aubrey get home safely."

"I may have to tuck them in too," the guardian angel sighs, looking at her responsibilities. As the pair of blondes progress with their memories, the more they detach themselves from the knowledge of Limbo. Soon, I will have to go through the same process. "Don't do anything stupid without me, bitches."

We all wave goodbye, even the Australian who seems to have forgotten who we are for a moment. Rem shuts the door close and so the room is left for me and the brunette. I collect the dirty dishes while she puts away the Scrabble tiles into the box. The atmosphere is too quiet, I can barely tolerate it.

"Do you mind?" I question her, standing by the stereo. She responds with a smile and shakes her head, so I push on the play button before going back to work.

_[Wish enough, wise man will tell you a lie  
><em>_Window broke, torn up screens]_

I place the dishes into the dishwasher and put away the leftovers. I return to the living room with Beca trying to form some words with the remaining tiles. I watch her carefully, pleased by such opportunity. She's like a kid trying to rediscover the world.

_[I just wanna sing a song with you  
><em>_I just wanna take it off of you]_

"How is _'twerk' _a word?" she inquires with a pinch of disdain.

I smirk, looking at the tiles spelling out the word. "It's a verb, actually. A dance move."

"Dance move? I thought it's just something about jerking or whatever."

_[Cause Blue Eyes  
><em>_You are all that I need]_

"Yes!" I exclaim with joy that she almost comprehends the definition. I stand up for an attempt to demonstrate what 'twerk' is. "It goes sorta like..."

After all my efforts, she's all giggly towards the end as if I look really silly twerking. "Looks like something, uh... Mindy? Oh, Miley... yeah, Miley Cyrus should never do."

"Miley Cyrus," I laugh, for a ghost to have that opinion.

_[Fess it up, dot on the palm of your hand  
><em>_I can help you to stand]_

"I have to go," she says, getting on her feet. "Gatekeeper on duty."

"You can sleep over if you want," I offer as we head for the exit. "I've got a spare room."

"Thanks, but... you know."

_[I just wanna sing a song with you  
><em>_I just wanna be the one that's true]_

_I know. _So, I open the door for her and she steps outside when she suddenly stops, turns around to face me, those blue eyes I will surely miss.

_['Cause Blue Eyes  
><em>_You're the secret I keep]_

"One more question then I'll let it all go." I give her a silent permission. "If this wasn't Limbo, if we were back on the physical plane, if we had a better timing, and if we had our emotions back... do you think it would work out between us?"

_[All the lights on and you are alive  
><em>_But you can't point the way to your heart]_

"Close your eyes," I blurt out instead.

Taken aback, I'm relieved that she still does, because I have an idea. Yes, every magical thing in the Limbo starts with this phrase indeed. But we don't have to open our eyes to witness them. We don't have to see it to believe that it's happening. _It's the thought that counts_, right? And so I lean in, close my eyes just before my lips could touch hers. It works!

_[Cause Blue Eyes  
><em>_You are destiny's scene]_

_ Strawberry_, I knew it_. _She kisses me back, and I slide a hand onto the back of her neck. I can touch her, I can feel her. I let her tongue into my mouth as if we are about to explore the human body for the very first time. We bring it into the house, shut the rest out, and escape into our own little world.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Song: <strong>Blue Eyes - Cary Brothers_


	8. The Truth Will Set You Free

**_madness2013, Guest_**_ (Dec 1)__:_****_We've all been waiting for it, haven't we?_

**_BIT:_**_ I mean, that's plausible, right? There has to be some kind of a portal! LOL. I love details. I think they make any story interesting. Thank you for appreciating my literary works. (It's still weird for me to actually be an author of something)._

**_RobOverstreet:_**_ You have a good taste in music, my friend! :)_

**_Guest_**_ (Nov 30): Come on, everybody needs a good scare._

**_cricket:_**_ I'll pretend I don't know what you're talking about._

**_50 Shades of Pitch Perfect:_**_ "Somehow by the power of the universe, Bechloe will BE!"_

**_bluecolline:_**_ Thank you so so so much!_

**_Pinoypride:_**_ Ayaw ni Beca sa cliche, right?_

**_NightmareWalker: _**_I truly appreciate you taking some time off your busy schedule to leave such an amazing review. I'm sending you good luck, hugs and kisses, and good vibes to get through your shit. _

**_kinqslanding: _**_Breathing life into the characters as if they're real persons, I think that's when a good story really starts._

**_Guest_**_ (Nov 29): You're welcome! :)_

_This chapter is dedicated to everybody who feels shit right now..._

* * *

><p>CHAPTER SEVEN: <strong>The Truth Will Set You Free<strong>

It's the morning after. A ray of sunlight peeps through the small gaps between the window blinds. I turn to my side to find this beautiful brunette sleeping peacefully next to me. A smile creeps into my lips; this must be the longest sleep she ever had in the Limbo, recalling the accounts on her napping days against tree trunks in the rainforest. I wish we don't ever have to get out of the bed again. I wish we don't ever have to wake up. Just an eternity by her side. But a wish is a wish, and the truth is reality.

Carefully, I move my hand over her brown locks, supposedly to tuck those loose strands away behind her ear. My fingers fail to touch her hair, unfortunately, so this means we're back to our normal paranormal selves. _Bummer. _Although, I'd like to believe that she felt me somehow – that would be really nice – because then her eyes slowly open, waking up, leaving behind our own shared world.

"Did I wake you?"

"Hmm… who are you?" she faintly replies to my query. And I feel my entire world just burn down to rubble. She doesn't know who I am, just like how we have feared for it to happen. Soon, I won't be able to recognize her, too. It's like everything we've been through, _everything_ for nothing. I open my mouth, but now I can't even find the words to convince her that we must be what one might call _'soulmates'_.

To my bewilderment, Beca erupts into a fit of laughter. "You should have seen the look on your face, Chloe."

"What?" I cry out. Did she just play a prank on me? _Unbelievable! _I pick up a pillow and whack her with it, only her body has easily become incorporeal much to my disadvantage. "Beca! That is so not funny!"

"I can't believe you actually bought it!"

"It happened before! And it _will _happen again! And the next time it does, you might not remember me ever after that!"

Her laughs die out, little by little, like putting out a big flame in a gradual manner with just a few splashes of water from time to time. That's when I accept the possibility that I must have been acting a bit strange than usual. My tears are just as translucent as the rest of my soul. I lie on my back and pull the sheets over my face, so she doesn't see how pathetic I must be right this instance.

"Chloe," I hear her softly speak. "Did I do something? I'm sorry."

I got nothing to say. My mind just goes blank.

"Hey…" she gently pulls down the cover and I can't seem to find the strength to resist her. She stares at me, at my face, studying what this ridiculous expression might mean in human language. "Are you alright? You seem… I don't know, upset? No, it's more complicated than that. Uh… you are… afraid?"

"Terrified," I confess to her in all honesty. "_So _terrified, Beca."

"Of what? Of the Soul Hunters? They can't hurt you anymore."

I shake my head as I look directly into her eyes, the only thing that seems so alive in her. "I'm terrified of you. I'm terrified of the fact that I'm going to lose you. _Soon._ And I'm beyond terrified knowing that there's nothing I can do to stop it."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not okay!" I insist. "I want more of this. I want more time with you, Beca. I mean, don't you? Don't you want to feel the way we touch over and over again?"

She shifts her gaze from my eyes to my hand clenching on the fringe of the sheets. She places her hand over it – through it to be exact, occupying the same area as mine. She raises her hand, and mine attentively follows. It's not because hers moves it physically, but it's her actions manipulating my mental obedience. It's a simple mind trick. The same is making her fingers dance like live corals under the ocean; my fingers respond accordingly. It almost seems like we're a normal couple ordinarily playing with each other's hand on a typical day, or a pair of playmates doing the silliest thing at the playground. Either way, I catch myself giggling at our juvenile little game.

"I feel you," she says. "I don't know how but I do. I do feel you."

And frankly, it's the best three words with eight letters she can ever say to me at this course of time, at this miserable place. I glance at her, put on my sweetest smile. "I feel you too."

"I've got an idea," she snaps. It alarms me sometimes when she gets into this vibe, but I listen for what she has to say anyway. "Maybe I can make another Appeal. I will tell the Timekeeper I will never leave the Gate again."

See? She can be this stupidly impulsive sometimes. As if being stuck in the Limbo forever is not enough. "Wait, wait. Why would you do that?"

"So they will let me trade. I'll give up my one last memory for a memory of you."

"But that memory means a lot to you."

She shakes her head and scootches closer. "No, not anymore. That's all in the past, a past I can't even remember. All I need now is you. _You_, Chloe."

Before anything further, a thump is heard through the door followed by muffled murmurs coming from the other side. Pulling the comforter to wrap my naked body as I prepare to leave the bed, I notice all my clothes stack on my corner. Bowled over, I climb back up to look over Beca's side, and to confirm my suspicion, her clothes are stacked just as neatly on the floor. The fact that she's as clueless as I am can only mean that someone else stacked the pieces of clothing accordingly.

"I'm pretty sure you _yanked_ my shirt off when we were on the sofa," she voices my supposition out loud.

I throw her a look momentarily. Did she really have to use the term 'yank' so accurately? We're ghosts, but we can still be conveniently discreet, right? I finish dressing up just as she does, then head for the door. Fat Amy and Rem still have their snooping ears gearing towards the room, though they quickly pop out into thin air when they realize my sudden presence.

"What's up?" Beca finally stands behind me.

"I think I just caught Tom and Jerry," I answer, leading her down the stairs where I can possibly find where the pair of rascals has sought refuge. True enough, the blondes along with Aubrey are seated strangely behaved at the dining room.

"And that is how you speak Australian, mate," Rem, in an excellent Australian accent, exerts the effort of perfecting an obviously made up conversation.

The real Australian native, on the other hand, has her eyes widely open and her muscle-free body so stiff as if holding a non-existing breath. I worry that she might explode any minute. I get it. She can't keep a secret, this one. So, when I purposely engage her in a staring contest to further my interest, she ultimately bursts out. "I have OCD!"

_Who'd have thought?_

"Oh kill me now." Her best friend groans loudly and slams her own face on the table pass through a ceramic plate and silverwares. "Kill me."

"Can you deal with them on your own?" Beca butts in.

"Why? Are you leaving?"

"Gatekeeper on duty," she meekly replies.

God, I totally forgot about it. I pack her some croissant for breakfast before sending her off at the doorstep. "If the earth gets infested by Soul Hunters because of your negligence and you get fired from your job for it, I'll reserve a very special place in hell for you."

"A seat next to you will be greatly appreciated," she winks and disappears.

"You two had sex," I hear Rem's voice as she suddenly appears next to me, giving me a mini heart attack if only I were alive. I try to ignore her prying as I walk back to the dining room for a meal. "And then post-coital sex, I'm sure."

"Kinky," Fat Amy mumbles to herself before sipping on her glass of milk. _I heard that!_

"Again, stay away from my pants, people."

"Oh Beca _definitely_ did not."

"You know, I was thinking that maybe I could do something nice for you guys." I think I just know how to turn this table around. Their eyes glint. At least, I have lured their attention away from sex shaming. "So I thought maybe a night of karaoke with my friends would be exciting. Hmm, let's see… maybe not!"

"Whoa! Whoa!" I have Vanilla Skittles under my mercy now. "Let's not immediately jump into a harsh decision, yes?"

"She likes karaoke singing," Fat Amy provides me something I already know.

The other cries out, "Who the fuck doesn't?"

"Well…" I turn to the awfully quiet blonde, giving her the chance to be heard in this informal deliberation. "If Aubrey's up to it…"

Rem and Fat Amy almost automatically strain their necks towards the person who holds the key to their temporary source of happiness, begging with all their might to not be an annoying kill joy. Strange as it seems, Aubrey oddly stares back at me. I may be having a delusion here, but her stare appears to be too intense for a friendly morning gesture. Her eyes are trying to talk to me; I just can't figure out the words.

"I gotta go," she announces, the first time she has spoken today, and bolts her way out.

Okay, that's weird. My two remaining guests turn to me eagerly; they don't pay much attention to the peculiarity of the situation, but I don't blame them for the absence of proper concern. They only care about karaoke at this point. I, on the other hand, have been preoccupied by Aubrey's anomalous behavior. _Oh no. _Am I being another insensitive ghost here, numb and oblivious to the tremendous likelihood that she really likes Beca too?

* * *

><p><em>[Now I've had the time of my life<br>__No, I never felt like this before]_

First two lines of the song, and everybody is already in a chorus, either waving their hands up in the air or belting out on their alcoholic beverages – never mind that some, or _most_, are singing out of tune. You'd think the local bar is hosting a concert of a famous dead guy, like Bob Marley perhaps. But really, it's just Rem and Fat Amy hoarding the microphone, dancing up on stage like Spice Girls.

_[I've been waiting for so long  
><em>_Now I've finally found someone to stand by me]_

I cringe listening to the duo murder the song by their crazy vocal antics. The other had a different tune and tempo, you'd suspect they're not singing the same song simultaneously. That's when I've figured the rest of the crowd could be just as drunk, or maybe deaf. Who said dead souls can't get drunk too?

_[Now with passion in our eyes  
><em>_There's no way we could disguise it secretly]_

By accident, I catch a glimpse of Aubrey entering the establishment. She makes the terrible mistake of meeting my eyes. I put on a smile and wave at her, but she averts her gaze and blends in the crowd, disappearing from my sight. Great, she can't even stand to be in the same room with me now.

_[Just remember  
><em>_You're the one thing]_

I approach the bar where Jesse is bartending tonight. He dutifully provides me with another glass of martini. He serves Long Island to another non-paying customer and some tequila shots to a group of squealing girls, also non-paying, then returns to my aid.

"You might want to stay sober," he says. After which, chuckling, he nods towards my two blonde friends. "Someone will have to get those two home, you know, make sure they don't do something stupid."

I gawk at them. They're obviously enjoying up on the stage. So far, neither is down on her knees, plus we're in the Limbo. I don't think there's something even more stupid than being here. I think they'll be fine. We will all be fine.

"So you and Beca," he tries to suppress a smile. I hate nosy bartenders. "Yeah, I heard rumors."

I flash my best friendly, most gracious sneer. "None of your business, pal."

"Head's up!" he warns me nevertheless, bowing his head, pretending to be preparing another mix for his own good.

At the corner of my eye, I see the one and only Bumper smirking his way towards me. _Ugh._ Just something in his attendance that gives me the irks. No, I can't be the only one. He 'casually' stops beside me, orders for a Johnny Walker Blue, and leans his side on the bar.

"No!" I yell out as soon as his mouth begins to open for a chat.

He shrugs, dumbfounded, and complains, "I haven't said anything yet."

"But I know what you were going to say," I guarantee him before deliberately walking away.

_[With my body and soul  
><em>_I want you more than you'll ever know]_

Scanning the surrounding, I find no sign of Beca. She's not coming, I conclude. She spent the entire time yesterday away from the Gate; she probably will stay in the forest all night, fully awake, guarding up the most valuable passage. Maybe I'll go there now, keep her company. It's the least I can do in the midst of the circumstances.

_[This could be love  
><em>_Because I've-]_

The music abruptly has come to a stop. A long static sound courtesy of a microphone infiltrates what has been once a pleasant atmosphere. Alarmed, I focus all my attention to the stage – Rem is on her knees, her sinking hands are the only thing that props herself up; Fat Amy is trying her best to shield her best friend from what I can only recognize as Bumper's malicious advances. I dash to the stage, though Jesse beats me to it. He uses his bartender charisma to try and entice Bumper away from the scene while I tend to my guardian angel. I never thought I'd see her in this fragile condition.

"Rem," I call out her name. "Are you alright? Rem!"

"She used too much of her energy," Fat Amy arrives with a sound realization. "We should take her home now. Otherwise, she could just die here."

We certainly cannot grab her and drag her out of the bar no matter how much we try. Thus, I decide to untie the bandana she usually wears around her arm. It might help us transport her. As I unknot it, the material loosens, revealing more skin on her forearm. Rem is gorgeous, the popular girl in high school type. The word 'attractive' might even undermine her beauty. So it really struck me, bothered me a lot, to witness her forearm flecked by a thousand cut marks. Come on, I know she's the rebellious kind. I didn't know she's a suicidal one. _This. _This is what brought her into the Limbo.

* * *

><p>Rem lived in a mansion, the kind of house they usually feature on that MTV show. I'm told, based on retrieved memories, that she was sent to the most prestigious schools in America and even abroad; her parents gave her freedom to do whatever could make her happy, supported her various passion in life no matter how spontaneous or uncanny or non-sense they might seem to be sometimes, never missed the important tournaments including Stone-Skipping World Championships. All in all, she was picture-perfect and, most importantly, loved. That's why, right now, she's a very big jigsaw puzzle to me.<p>

"You should go to sleep," I urge Fat Amy. She, too, needs to save up some energy if she wants to finish the entire run of her memories before crossing the gate. "I'll keep an eye on her, don't worry."

The Australian agrees but opts to settle on the recamier nearby. I stay on the side of the bed, quiet and aimless; my gaze is glued on the red marks on Rem's pale white skin. I retrieve her bandana and carefully tie it around her arm so her imperfections are hidden from the scrutiny of the world once again.

"I'm fine." I glance at her face; her hazel eyes indicate that she's already awake. She pulls her hand to herself, as if hiding it away from me. Humiliated may be. "I'm fine, Chloe."

I offer a small nod to match a subtle beam. "You're fine, I know. But it's my turn to take care of you."

"Take care of me?" She scoffs and rolls her eyes. Typical Rem. She tries to get up and I have to strike her with a pillow to put her back to the bed. Why are patients always this stubborn? "Look, it doesn't matter now, alright? I'm going to die. With or without the Trial, I _am _going to die."

I'm taken aback. "But the Trial… I thought…"

"All suicide attempts automatically have death served as verdict. It's what you wanted to get, in the first place, right? You need more than just an alibi to get an Appeal approved. I _don't _have that alibi. So what's the point?"

"Is that why you gave me your schedule?"

She averts her eyes. "You have the will to live. I don't."

"It doesn't mean you should die."

"Everybody dies, Chloe. Deal with it."

"No," I refuse to accept her logic. "Not this way."

She lets out a chuckle. She tries to sit up again, and I calmly watch as she carefully leans back on the upholstered headboard. This time she sports that goofy feature with her usual mischievous smirk as the centerpiece. I like this crazy side of her more, to be honest.

"We're friends, aren't we?"

I respond with a positive nod straight away.

"To find a friend, a _very_ good friend, here in the _Limbo_," she pauses to shake her head in disbelief, "it's a grand miracle. And it happened to me. Now I don't expect you to understand, Chloe. I don't expect anybody to understand. My life was ideal, I can't complain. I had everything, everyone. But fuck me, it wasn't enough. I wake up everyday with this big hole in my heart."

I glare at her because I'm so mad, so frustrated at her. "You're a coward."

She rids off the bandana, bravely exposing all those stupid marks.

"That's it? You're just going to give up without trying?"

"Oh every fucking time, I tried." She laughs and shows me her murdered arm with a grin so proud. "_These_, they remind me how many times I tried… and failed. Sometimes, you just have stop, you know. And to give up, god, it takes more than courage to do it. It takes all of you, Chloe."

I can't do this. I just can't.

"Tell you what," she certainly wants to cheer me up, "I'm happy here. Seriously. And I don't need to have emotions to know it. I guess death is life to me."

_Ironic._ Impossible, maybe. But I look at her now and I believe it.

"You should go home," she advices. Souls can only be recharged properly in their own homes, and I'm starting to be weary too. "Let Fat Amy have some rest. I'll get her home as soon as I get back to normal."

Giving in, I shoot her one more look before proceeding to the door. I halt, face her once again, and stare at her for who knows how long. She taunts me with an annoying smug plastered all over her features. She knows I'm currently scavenging for an awesome closing speech, because somehow, in human nature, there's always a need for a great ending. Damn it.

"I know," she chips in wittingly when I still got nothing to say. She doesn't want to trouble my thoughts anymore. "Thanks, Chloe."

Suddenly, things seem to be a little brighter. It's never been this refreshing. Perhaps, death is life, it truly is. I have acquired wisdom from Vanilla Skittles today, imagine that.

I exit the room and navigate my way out of the unbelievable mansion. The gate, by design, opens for me then closes all by itself upon my departure. Unexpectedly, I find Aubrey right outside, eerily staring back at me. Has she been standing here all along while I've been inside the mansion? God, she's been waiting!

"Aubrey-"

But she quickly backs away, preparing to storm off. Oh no, not this time! I decline having to endure her running away and keep me hanging again.

"Wait!" I double up my speed – why won't anybody teach me how to teleport into thin air? "Aubrey! Hey, you can't just wait out here for me and then leave without giving me any explanation! Don't walk out on me now, Aubrey!

She hastily stops and turns to me, aggravated, blurting out, "I never walked out on you, Chloe!"

Her sudden outburst leaves me slack-jawed beyond graceful recovery. What the hell did I do for her to come up with such statement? I can't even relate to it. Realizing what she just did, Aubrey drops her gaze and prepares to leave. Completely bewildered, I have no other choice but to let her go. As she takes another step away from me, however, she ultimately decides to return and stay.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs. She seems to be on the verge of breaking down, shaken and confused all at once. "I… I-I don't know why I said that."

"Aubrey," I try to calm her. "What's going on?"

She firmly shakes her head. I may be losing her. "I don't know if I should tell you, Chloe. I might be breaking the rules here. But you ought to know. I… How are your memories? How far have you gone?"

"My memories?" I don't see the connection of the progress of my memories to this moment of madness. "Well, I get more nightmares than memories."

"No… I'm running out of time… I have to make sure you remember…"

"What?" I desperately ask. "What should I remember?"

"You are no longer engaged," she begins as she fumbles through the contents of her bag looking for something specific. "I was the Maid of Honor at your wedding. We used to be the best of friends, Chloe."

She shows me a small gold card from her bag. I'm not sure what it is, but in glittery letters, it simply reads: _B + C_.

"I found it among my belongings," she explains. "It's your wedding invitation."

"Ben and Chloe."

"Oh no," Aubrey shakes her head for the nth time. This time, she is quite sure about what she's talking about which is even scarier. "The _'B'_ stands for _'Beca'_. The same Beca we have here."

My eyes shoot up to her. _What?_ Is she implying that I'm married to Beca? It can't be. No, I cannot not remember her at all. But this ghost I thought I've met for the very first time in the Limbo is pretty persuasive. That's it, I'm done with all these mind tricks. I snatch the card from Aubrey and sets for the rainforest.

"Beca!" I scream and scream until she finally appears to me. "Can we talk?"

"Close your eyes, I want to kiss you."

I stare at her. She stares back at me, unyielding. _Fine_. One kiss. Then after that I'll tell her the truth, the truth that could possibly change everything. I close my eyes as she requests, yearn for the touch of her lips.

"Wait for me," I hear her whisper before the kiss.

_Water. _I'm completely submerged in water, losing my consciousness. Drowning, I think I am. Then I feel somebody's hands grab my body, pulling me as hard as he can, dragging me away from danger. _I'm alive._ I think I'm alive.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Song: <strong>(I've Had) The Time of My Life - Bill Medley & Jennifer Warnes_

**_A/N: _**_This is **NOT** to encourage you people to commit suicide. I guess what I'm trying to say here is that sometimes we find happiness in the most unexpected circumstances. Death is life, and life is death._


	9. Life After Death

_**Guest**_ _(Dec 8), **Guest **(Dec 5): That's the idea._

**_NightmareWalker: _**_After __Stolen and Vindicated, you should have known by now that I like inflicting mental torture on my readers. I think it's for the best. LOL._

**_BeChloeFan01, madness2013:_**_ Climax of the story._

_**50 Shades of Pitch Perfect: **Thank you! Thank you! :)  
><em>

**_RicchanxMio:_**_ This chapter is not so much. But it's interesting._

**_bluecolline: _**_Oh I'm sorry. I thought it would be obvious. Beca revived Chloe._

_**Guest **(Dec 4): Soulmates, literally and figuratively. Well, I have already explained how Beca became gatekeeper - she exchanged death for a lifetime in the Limbo so she could keep her one last memory. As for Chloe, what she was able to remember were old memories so she used to think she's engaged to Ben. Aubrey, on the other hand, if you recall, can only remember that she was in a coma but not why. Being dead, she's starting to regain everything but in a chnological order so it took some time to get to the part where Beca and Chloe married. Meanwhile, Chloe's got messed up by the nightmares brought by the Soul Hunters. Okay, that's a long one. But I hope things get clearer.  
><em>

_So before we start, few things first. (1) To those who got really confused by the ending last chapter, remember Beca, being the gatekeeper, has the power to revive anybody but herself? That's what happened there. (2) Time doesn't work in the Limbo, right? So honestly, the whole time Chloe was in there, only a few seconds had lapsed in the physical world. Don't get confused. Time is a mystery. (3) For this chapter, there are flashbacks or something. You'll figure. Oh and it's kinda heavy. I tried to infuse some light stuff, but it's really kinda heavy. Now I'll stop blabbing so you can read on._

* * *

><p>CHAPTER EIGHT: <strong>Life After Death<strong>

I lie awake in my bed, eyes bulging from crying non-stop. I turn to my side; a picture frame with an image from our wedding has taken my wife's place. Helpless, I reach for it and wrap it under my arms. _Come back_, I hope my thoughts contact her. I need her to come back. I need her back to me. Now.

"Get up," Aubrey's cold voice penetrates my ears. "Come on, Chloe, get up."

She doesn't understand. She doesn't know what it's like to lose someone important. But she's my best friend. So she's supposed to have my back all the time. For better or worse applies in friendships just the same.

"Take a shower," she commands. "We're going out tonight."

But I don't want to go out tonight. I don't want to go anywhere. I want to stay in bed until Beca comes back. No bargaining. Why can't she just leave me alone? How can she expect me to have fun when my wife is missing?

"It's been weeks, Chloe. You don't eat, you don't go to work, you don't talk to anybody, you don't leave the bed, you don't change out of your sweatshirt, you don't-"

She stops herself, and I wonder why. I finally turn to look at her to check if she's okay. Except from being freshly dressed up and a full-on make-up for a fun night out, she appears just as wretched as I am. Which is odd. Because I thought, out of everybody, she's the one who is handling this best. I guess I'm wrong.

"It's like you're dead," she cries out, struggling to keep her eyes on me. "And it's hard for me to see you like this. Chloe, you can't just stop living."

I sit up but I hug Beca's picture tighter. "You don't know what it's like to lose someone you love."

"I'm losing you now," she counters.

And it's supposed to stab me right to the heart, right? I heave out a deep sigh because it certainly did. Wordless, I set the picture frame back to the table, carefully, and climb out of bed. With my bare feet, I walk pass her and voluntarily enter the bathroom. Okay, I'll go out. For Aubrey, I will act as normal as I possibly could tonight. Because she's my best friend. And it pains me to realize that I'm dragging her down with me into a pitfall.

"Where are we going?" I check with my driver when we have traversing through traffic for the last hour. At this time, we ascend the Buckman Bridge going to nowhere in particular.

"I don't know," she replies. "You tell me."

"What?" I take my eyes off of the window view to throw her a look. "But I thought you've got everything planned for the evening. Aubrey, you made me get out of my bed!"

"Do you really think I can be that insensitive to take you out clubbing? Your wife is missing, for Pete's sake! I just wanted to make you leave the house, for once. You know, I got to remind you how it's like to live. That house is eating you up."

"I miss her," I mutter, returning my gaze outside the window.

"I know," she nods and glimpses at me. "And I know Beca and I had our fair share of stupid... _misunderstandings_, but, you know, I sure would love to have her here with us right now. I miss her. I miss having to bitch her around."

For the first time in weeks, I let out a small chuckle as I look over my best friend. I miss the old times. I miss how we used to be. I miss Beca. "Thanks, Aubrey. Thanks for not walking out on me."

"I will never walk out on you, silly." She puts a hand over mine and turns to me with a big grin.

Really, it's _beyond_ satisfying - to have someone like Aubrey Posen as my best friend. Somehow it sends a rejuvenating feeling, a source for a positive outlook despite the fact that I'm longing for Beca's presence, for her company, for everything she can offer. Then it happens so fast. I turn my eyes to the windshield - the flash of a blinding light, the long blow of horns, the screeching of wheels, the piercing screams; my body jolts at the impact of a powerful force on the driver's side. _Splash. Water_, water everywhere. But I can't move, I can't breathe. My body is weak; I'm drowning.

_Air._ I need air. So bad. I struggle to release my body from the seatbelt, but the water current is too strong as the vehicle further sinks deeper the St. Johns River, making it all too difficult to move. I turn to my side. _Aubrey._ She's already unconscious, her extremities freely float out of her control. I know, soon I will follow suit. The more I stay under water, the harder for me to breathe, the more I drown in danger. I close my eyes and I see Beca's face; her dark blue eyes are smiling at me like always. Perhaps, this is okay - to sleep for eternity and dream about her.

"Chloe?"

The voice echoes in my ears. I feel like standing in a long dark tunnel completely alone. _Light._ I find a faint light towards the end. Slowly, I flutter my eyes open and adjust to the new-found brightness.

"Oh my god," Stacie gasps and squeals. "You're awake! Wait, I have to- Guys! Guys!"

She frantically runs out of the room. I try to pay attention. My head is throbbing and my chest aches to infinity. As I try to sit up, I realize I have something on my nose - _oxygen_. I'm in a hospital, I realize. I recognize that funny smell and the full wall paint. Before long, the rest of my friends - Jessica, Luke, and Beca's brother, Stan - have barge into the room with the tall brunette. But someone's missing, I notice.

"Aubrey." Even whispering requires painful effort. "Where's Aubrey? How is she?"

They exchange looks, and I panic. I don't like those looks.

"Where is she?" I ask again, forcing my weak body to get out of the bed. I don't care if I have IV inserted to my veins. I need to see my best friend _now_, or I'll lose myself. "Aubrey? Aubrey!"

I should have known they don't play fair; I'm so mad. A nurse has come to their rescue, coerce me to lie back on the bed, and steal away my consciousness. I never saw Aubrey again after that. _Never again._

* * *

><p>"Hmm… could it be?" Beca acts like a sophisticated, genuine art critic pondering on her thoughts to come up with the most accurate review for a piece of art. We sneaked into an exclusive art exhibit and have been staring at a completely empty space for the last hour, looking like ignorant fools by guessing what might be the significance of this picture. "This is the very first draft of the Mona Lisa."<p>

I giggle, but I play along. "It's a landscape of Paris at night. The City of _Love_. You know, like on Ratatouille."

"Hmm… Loki and Iron Man sex bondage."

"The Simpsons."

"Or Rugrats."

"Lady and the Tramp sharing a plate of spaghetti and meatballs."

"Dog poop."

I squint my eyes and fix a look at her. She innocently shrug her shoulders as if 'dog poop' is the most logical continuation of the list. "How did we go from 'Mona Lisa' to 'dog poop'?"

"You know, after the spaghetti and meatballs, they…" she leaves the last part hanging for my own imagination. _Disgusting. _She finally decides to cheat and look over the podium-like stand where the title of this masterpiece is displayed - _The Limits of the Mind. _"Huh. 'Dog poop'. So, what does it say about me?"

I stifle a laugh at her grimace. "You're defying limitations."

"Now when you put it that way," she smirks, leaning closer, teasing me a little before giving me a kiss. "Remember when we defied the limits of your body and-"

Distressed that someone might hear our chronicles in the bedroom, I stop her immediately. Beca, however, seems to have perceived my action as an act of encouragement. She links her fingers to mine and brushes her lips against my neck. My eyes roll back and my breath is caught up in my throat. If someone catches us… but my brain is no longer functioning accordingly. My hands pulls her face so I can kiss her properly on the mouth. They slide on the back of her neck, under her soft brown hair, holding her in place, never letting her go.

"Hey!" The gallery security guard of stout stature has somehow managed to track down our hushed trails. "How many times do I have to tell you that you're not allowed in here? Get out!"

As soon as Danny DeVito moves to approach us with his fat belly, Beca grabs me by the hand and we sneak into the next room. An audience consisting of socialites clad in formal attire surrounds what must be the exhibit's main event, a must-see performance art by the one and only Terence Koh. But it doesn't matter; we dash through the crowd, in guffaw about our childish escapade. She opens a door to another room; we have no idea what's awaiting us inside.

Our chortles are instantly replaced by awe. The room is an entire square bare with no furniture or painting or sculpture to block the most grandeus view I have ever seen in my entire life. It's like standing among snow-capped pines below a sky of color spectrum dancing in grace and in silence to a mellifluous harmony.

"Wow," I can't help but utter my astonishment. "What is this?"

"Northern lights," answers Beca. I check if she cheats by reading a label again, but she doesn't. She stands next to me, her eyes also glued on the _art._ "Aurora borealis. I saw it on National Geographic. Ancient men believe it's a reflection of dead spirits, but of course, it's just science. Best spot to watch is said to be in Norway. I've been wanting to write about it for a while, for work, and luckily, my boss thinks it'll be good for the magazine."

I nod excitedly. "Because it's really good! Go on. Fly to Norway, write about it."

"I want you to come with me, Chloe," she turns her gaze to me and offers a smile. My heart has skipped a beat. Why do I feel like this childish escapade is about to turn into something more? The look in her eyes is different, the good kind. "Then, we can spend our honeymoon all around Europe."

_Honeymoon? _But that would mean… My jaw drops in utter surprise. I have my index finger to warn her because I know she's full of playful crap most of the time. I mean, like, seriously!

"Chloe Beale, I want to spend my forever with you."

That's all it took for me to absorb the verity of the situation. And for someone like Beca Mitchell who doesn't believe in even the slightest possibility of 'forever' to abandon such belief for me, _because _of me, it definitely is something to consider. As my tears threaten to slip away, I squeeze her hand so tight it's no wonder she writhes amusingly. She chuckles because she knows I can't contain the delight; inside my mind, fireworks have already exploded. Same as the loud bang of explosion that wakes me up.

The television is on just like how I deserted it almost an hour ago, I guess, the longest I have been asleep since I woke up from the accident; John Malkovich struts away from a gigantic fireball. I shift into a more comfortable position, massaging my neck to relieve me from the pain. _Where the hell is the remote? _I pick it up from the floor and change the channel. A variety of selection, yet nothing quite interesting for me to stick around. Well, if I'm being honest, there's one - the local news channel.

"_Buckman Bridge, eastbound, is still experiencing some heavy traffic while authorities further investigate the accident that transpired last night which involved twelve vehicles. Eight had been declared dead, Seven is in a critical condition while ten sustained physical injuries-"_

I switch the TV off; my ears have heard enough. I don't need a constant reminder that I was in that stupid car accident. I'm barely one of those ten people who sustained injuries; I survived the accident, scratch-free. Even the doctors are puzzled about it. But how come my best friend _was _one of those eight dead people? _Why? _First, I lost Beca. Now, Aubrey. Who's next? Who else am I going to lose for the universe to make its point that life is so freaking unfair?

_Ring… ring… ring… _

"_You have reached Chloe. And you-know-who. We are currently planning to slaughter our neighborhood, so just leave us a message."_

"Hey," Stacie's voice follows the (_beep)_. "It's me. _Again._ We talked to the hospital; they're not going to file charges. But we're really worried about you, Chloe. You can't run away just like that, alright? We figured you're home. I'll check on you tomorrow. Don't even try to lock up. Please be okay… okay, Chloe? And, uh… Aubrey… well, she's… come say goodbye to her. Yeah, come say goodbye."

And the message joins the previous ones into the neglected voice mail. I lie down on the couch, in a fetal position, hugging my knees as a tear sneaks out of my duct. _Goddamnit. _Why the fuck does it have to hurt so much? It should have been me who died in that accident, not Aubrey. It's my fault. If it wasn't for my pathetic self, she wouldn't have to drag me out of the house. It's my fault, _my _fault! I just want all of this to be over. But no, I know it won't. Not yet. I am destined to prolong this agony. Who knows how many more nights do I have to cry myself to sleep?

* * *

><p>She narrows her eyes on me, and I throw her a look. What is it this time?<p>

"Are you having an affair?" asks my wife. "You do realize that I'll be out of the country for the next two months, right? You don't seem upset about it. You know, even just a _teeny-weeny_. 'Cause me? I'm going to miss you every day and every night, every waking hour I spend without you by my side."

I laugh at her attempt at being a hopeless romantic. It just doesn't really fit her persona; it's weird actually. "It's been going on for a while now. I'm surprised you never noticed the first few months of our marriage."

"I knew it!" she exclaims, riding along the sarcasm. "I think we should get a divorce, Chloe."

"Oh dibs on the potato clock."

"Thats not fair! How come you get to have an affair _and _the potato clock?"

"Because I'm cute." I pull my eyes away from the road for a moment to give her a wink and a smirk.

She shakes her head in disapproval. "Oh no. I refuse to be manipulated by your feminine wiles all over again. First, you got me to sleep with you, then a serious relationship, a wonderful marriage and now you're using it against me over the potato clock."

"I can't believe we're actually having this conversation," I giggle. Because really.

"Do not underestimate the power of the potato clock."

"You are…" I pause to search for the befitting description. "...definitely something, yeah?"

"You're lucky I married you."

"Yes," I can't help but nod. "Absolutely."

We pull up by the entrance to the departure area of the airport. It's time to say goodbye. I help her with unloading her luggage. I'm still amazed by her light-packing ability. Of course, before I let her go, I pull her in for one long kiss; we won't be doing this for a while.

"I made arrangements at work," I confess. "The office is giving me some time off. So, I guess I'll meet you in Cape Town next week."

She stammers pleasantly in disbelief. "God, _I _am the lucky one! I love you!"

"And I love you too," I smile at her. "Behave in Berlin, okay?"

Beca assures me with a passionate kiss. Does she really have to go? I hate clingy couples. They make me sick. But what I hate even more is the feeling of missing Beca. We wave each other goodbye as I watch her leave. Perhaps, one week shouldn't be just a long time. Just a week, and I'll see her again, I'll touch her again, taste her again. But it's just day one, and it already feels like forever.

_Ding dong… knock knock… ding dong… knock knock… _

The ringing of the doorbell and the knocking alternate in short intervals. I hear it. In fact, I heard it the first time. Stacie came at seven early in the morning; I pretended to be in the comfort of dreamland. She returned by ten-thirty, probably right after the interment of Aubrey's ashes. Again, I pretended to be asleep. By twelve noon, she came back with packed lunch. She hinted that she wasn't buying my scheme anymore, yet thankfully, she opted to leave me alone. It's almost two when I heard her making noises again.

"Open up, Chloe!" her screams are louder than the combined forces of the ringing and the knocking. "I know you're in there, and I know you're awake."

I've figured this time she's not going to let me be. She will camp out at my doorstep, or worse, knock the front door down if she has to. Anyhow, she will find a way to enter my area of isolation.

"Chloe, ten seconds!" she threatens. "If you don't respond after ten seconds, I'm going to assume you are in danger and in urgent need of medical attention. I will bring you to the hospital whether you like it or not, so if I were you, Chloe, I wil-"

"What do you want?" I shoot at her as soon as I open the door.

I can tell by the look on her face that she's startled. She must have not expected that I would give up my defenses that easily. But the fact is the sooner I deal with her, the sooner she leaves me alone. That's logical. After some time, Stacie regains her composure and marches into the house. She walks straight to the dining room, bringing along today's paper and another packed lunch. Left with no choice, I followed her in. Speechless, unresponsive.

"We waited for you,"she starts with her battle plan to invade my conscience. Standing still by the corner, I remain silent though. She shakes her head in dismay and sets the table. "Aubrey's parents wanted you to be there, you know. She was your best friend, Chloe."

_Was. _From now on, we will refer to Aubrey with past tense verbs. And it's my fault.

"Eat," she commands. The hand on her hip is a major indicator of her serious intention. She _will _feed me if the circumstances so requires. Something tells me she will bathe me too through my stubborness. "Chloe, please."

But my eyes have already caught the paper on the table. Based on the photo, it's about the missing plane. Stacie must have guessed the thoughts floating in my mind and discreetly put the newspaper away for my own good. Luckily, the doorbell begins to ring again. Somebody's at the door. Stacie volunteers to be the hostess, leaving me all alone with the newspaper. The moment she leaves, I seek for the material.

_'Missing plane debris found'_

I run my eyes over the small texts below. The lack of sleep and hunger cloud my brain, preventing me from a thorough comprehension of the article. I can only make out some of the words. _'rudder'..._ _'Atlantic'... 'passengers'... 'still missing'... 'Berlin'..._

"You shouldn't be reading that, sweetie," Stacie snatches the paper from me. My reaction time decreases the longer I stay awake. I look over her shoulder - the rest of the gang has decided to pay me a visit.

"How are you, Chloe?" Stan posts the question. I look at him for as long as he allows. _Dark blue. _He has the same striking eyes as his sister, those eyes I haven't seen for such a very long time. I miss them so bad. "You look like someone who needs some rest."

I do not respond.

"We can lunch out if you want," Luke offers in modesty. "That sushi place nearby, your favorite."

Again, I give them no reply.

"Or we stay here, sure." Jessica lays down another option for me.

I bit my lip hard until it bleeds in the hopes of stopping myself from crying once more.

"It's alright, Chloe." Stan wants me to believe him, but I can't.

"No, it isn't," I speak my second sentence for the day. My throat sores, my voice cracks. "It's not alright, Stan. Aubrey… she promised she'd never walk on me. Those were her last words. And Beca… she promised forever with me. You were all there to witness it. And I believed them. I believed them both. Where are they now?"

And just like that, I break down. My entire world shatters into a million pieces. I have to hold on to something to keep me up on my feet. In front of my friends, I reveal my weakest, my most fragile state because I can't take it anymore. The pain is just too much bear.

_Ding dong._

"I'll get it," I mumble, taking advantage of an opportunity to run away. Fortunately, they don't stop me.

I stand at the door and pause for a minute. I wipe the tears away and straighten my clothes, trying to appear presentable for whoever has decided to be my additional guest. Even in the absence of a mirror, I know I still look like a total mess. But I just lost a wife and a best friend, so it should be fine. I'm trying my best here to stay sane. The sound of the doorbell fades and I finally open up. Nobody is there. I look around; the coast is clear. I'm about to shut the door close when I catch a glimpse of something on the doorstep - _a bottle. _

Finding just enough curiosity to pick it up, I've decided to examine the bottle. It's the kind one usually puts a rolled up message in. Although, what is inside his particular one instead is a rose, a beautiful red rose. I look around the vicinity one more time just to make sure nobody left it on my doorstep by mistake, or maybe somebody's playing a prank on me. I don't recognize it. It's the first time I've seen this thing. Strange as it seems, however, it's all too familiar to me. I open the bottle, and as if I have been living in an entirely different universe, a new set of memories flashes across my mind. With mouth gaping open, I stare at the bottle in my hand and breathe out. _Beca._

* * *

><p><em>AN: Just two more chapters._


	10. I Will Follow You Into The Dark

_**Guest **(Dec 12), **Guest **(Dec 9): I'm taking that as a compliment._

**_NightmareWalker: _**_Wow I never thought about the rose that way. I mean, for me, it's just a simple symbol for their love. Well, actually, I wanted to make a trademark, like an author's signature. Even without reading the author's name, you sort of figure out that the story is written by me. And it will always remind me of Poison & Wine where all of this adventure started. _

**_cricket:_**_ The rose that brought us all kinds of feels._

**_Guest_**_ (Dec 10): Thank you so much, dear! :) Reviews like this just inspire me to improve my writing in any way I can. It's my honor to bring you good Bechloe stuff._

**_50 Shades of Pitch Perfect: _**_Aubrey died, unfortunately. :(_

**_avidreader:_**_ Hi! It's nice to hear from you again, dear. I can never thank you enough for flattering me. Well, the transitions are a tremendous challenge, but I'm just not a fan of using borders just to put a clear cut between scenes. Aubrey is like the biggest piece in the puzzle. Without her, I don't know how I'm ever going to connect Chloe back to the physical world. But really, she had to die. Stan and Stacie; I'm glad they're back too. They will always look out for Chloe. For Beca. And the rose? I can't even._

**_RicchanxMio:_**_ I hope you check your email today._

**_madness2013: _**_LOL. Come on, aren't you excited about knowing how it ends?_

**_Guestttt_**_ (Dec 9): Well, yeah. Beca's last memory is when she boarded the plane to Berlin._

_**BeChloeFan01: **Salamat po! :)  
><em>

_So I've been listening to Death Cab for Cutie... Oh, and I don't speak Chinese (Mandarin, Cantonese, etc). If there's anyone here who can check and correct the ones I put in, feel free to call my attention. _

* * *

><p>CHAPTER NINE: <strong>I Will Follow You Into The Dark<strong>

So confusing. One moment I hear her laughing; I feel her lips trailing kisses all over my body; I see her eyes looking at me lovingly. Then next thing I know I'm standing underneath a sunny sky. The sunlight burns my skin and the sand irritates my feet. The salty breeze introduces a whole new environment; the sound of the waves crashing into the ebb indicates the intimate distance of the sea. I feel something move _through_ my legs. I look down and I see _me_. Another me.

This Chloe appears to be rattled and just as bewildered as I am. She looks to the side, and I follow her gaze. There she is, my dear Beca. I can distinguish that slouchy back even from miles away. My feet are responding, keen to approach her. But this other Chloe beats me to it. She pushes herself up, a little groggy, then dashes to the water.

At first, Beca doesn't seem to recognize her- or _me. _And it's striking me hard. It kills me for a second that the love of my life doesn't know who I am. So, really, it's a relief to see Beca come back to her senses. The other Chloe walks away from the water to sit on the shore; the brunette sits next to her. They talk, still oblivious of my existence. It scares me. It's like realizing that Beca can live perfectly fine without me, except that I'm being replaced by my own ghost. What the fuck is happening? I don't understand.

After some time, Beca retrieves a bottle from a messenger bag. It's so clear I can see the folded piece of paper sealed inside. She goes back to the water with her and releases the bottle into the water. What is it? What does the note say? I need to know.

"Chloe!"

I jump a little at Luke's voice startling my soul. My friends, they surround me with looks challenging my sanity. If Aubrey were here, she would have my back. She would defend me no matter how unreasonable I may sound like.

"Say it again?" asks Jessica as if my words were unclear the first time.

"It's Beca."

"What do you mean?" Stacie questions. Of course, I don't expect them to understand. Or believe it. "Are you saying this bottle was sent to you by Beca?"

I nod my head, "It's a message from Beca."

"Okay," says Luke, but I know I'm not able to convince anybody. It's just an 'okay' so as to not hurt my already crumbling feelings. "Okay, Chloe. We hear you. But how can you be so sure?

_I don't know. _That's the thing. If only they can see what's happening inside my head. There are so many pictures, memories if you would call them that I myself cannot comprehend. Maybe I'm indeed going crazy. But something about it tells me they are all real. And my heart, my mind, my soul; they all tell me the same - this bottle came from Beca. That, I believe.

"It sounds _really _crazy, but it feels like a _deja vu_ kind of thing, you know. I saw Beca. She was standing in the water, at sea. She was holding a bottle, the same as this, only it was a piece of paper inside. I don't know what it is, but I saw her release it into the water. Maybe it's a cry for help? I really don't know. But it's from her. I know it's from her. She's alive. Beca must be-"

"Stop!"

The rest of us turn to Stan, shocked by his sudden outburst. I should have known that, of all people, he is the one I have to convince the most.

"Stan, it's from Beca."

"No, Chloe!" he exclaims. "This has to stop. I can deal with you brushing us off or shutting everyone out so you can sulk all alone in this house, that's fine, I understand that kind of depression, but this? Oh come on, this is ridiculous! You honestly think that this piece of shit came from the underworld, from Beca, as a message. That's crazy! No, I won't put up with this. I'm sorry."

"From the underworld," I repeat his words.

"Yes! _Underworld._ It's been a month, Chloe. I should know when to stop keeping my hopes up. The plane was caught on fire in midair! There's no way Beca would survive that crash. And even if she did, they should have found her by now, a long long time ago. Well, guess what? They haven't found anything, and it's an entire fucking ocean!"

"Stan!" Stacie reprimands him, standing in front of him, getting in between the two of us. I appreciate the effort and all, but I've heard what he has to say. There's nothing she can do to take them back. "Go easy on her. Aubrey just… Chloe's been through a lot."

"No! She has to hear it from someone. We can't let her cling on to this now. You don't actually believe her, do you?"

"Stan," Jessica joins in, and so does Luke. "Stacie's right. Just give Chloe a break for now."

"Guys, she obviously doesn't have a sound mind right now. If we let her believe that this stupid rose-in-a-bottle here truly came from Beca, then it's going to be a hell of a problem."

"Just give her some time, man."

I hate this - the feeling that I'm such a helpless, pathetic, neurotic human being who must have gone completely nuts about everything. I hate them; they talk about me as if I don't exist in this room, as if I'm already too numb to even get hurt by their words. I can hear their noises, their chops, and they're getting into my head no matter how high the walls I build. I massage the back of my neck; I feel so exhausted with no sleep and no meal for the past weeks. My eyes are drooping, dog-tired.

"Get out," escapes out of my own mouth.

I look up to witness my friends all staring right back at me. So what if they think I'm crazy? Cradling the rose-in-a-bottle that mysteriously appeared in my doorstep with my shaky arms, I leave them in the kitchen to return to my cage. I lean back on the sofa and switch on the television. _Oggy and the Cockroaches. _My eyes are glued on the screen without really paying attention to the show. Stan storms out of the front door, and Luke hurries after him. With my back towards them, I feel the girls' gaze upon me.

"_Please_ take care of yourself," is the last thing I hear from Stacie before the front door shuts close. Finally, I'm alone. With this mystery bottle. With this mystery rose. It's like having Beca back with me, holding her tight as we idle for the rest of a lazy afternoon, except she's not here; her physical body is still out of my reach.

* * *

><p>My sight revolves to black as Beca blindfolds me. This is a super terrible idea considering the fact that we just finished re-watching <em>The Conjuring<em>. She knows how much I hate everything creepy, so I know just how much she's excited about this game we're about to play.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"I'm guessing it's just the middle one."

"Aw, baby, you know me too well."

She plants a quick kiss on my lips; if this is what I get for joking around a bit, no one's complaining, is there? I listen to her cheery voice explain the mechanics of the game once more. Really childlike, she's simply thinking about playing a silly game while my so-called mature self is contemplating how sexy this actually is. My horny peewee brain is expanding with malicious imaginations on how this Hide-and-Clap will eventually end. The bedroom will do.

"Follow me," she whispers into my ears, sending that tingling rush across my spine. Yes, I will. I will follow her.

_[All this feels strange and untrue  
><em>_And I won't waste a minute without you]_

Her warm hands slide off mine as the game is about to start. I take a couple of _very _cautious steps, bumping my knees against the coffee table in the process. _Darn it._ I hear her laugh; she hasn't gone that far. With a smirk, I follow her through the dark.

_[The anger swells in my guts  
><em>_And I won't feel these slices and cuts]_

I ask her to clap. _One._ The sound resonates from the side. I move towards it as carefully as I possibly could; I have no freaking idea where I am or where I'm going, just the promise that I'm going to find her, to catch her in the end. Secretly, I sniff the air inside the room. I get a hint of her sweet fragrance. So unfair; it's like I can sense her everywhere now.

_[Tell me that you'll open your eyes]_

Again, I ask her to clap. _Two_ - I only have one more cheat left. My eyebrows furrow because it sounds like she has hidden away into the next room. I carry on with my blind navigation. I've knocked down this and that; someone already owes me a nice massage afterwards. But it feels like forever, yet I still haven't found her.

_[Get up, get out, get away from these liars  
><em>'_Cause they don't get your soul or your fire]_

_Three._ She doesn't clap though. I listen closely, but there's no sound. _She's cheating_, the first thing that comes to my mind. I've probably already trapped her in a corner or something, and she doesn't want me to find her. I call out her name and ask for my last reserved clap. Still, she doesn't respond. Suddenly, I have a strange feeling about this. My hands hold the blindfold, ready to remove it when a pair of _warm_ hands gently grabs me by the arm, stopping me, paralyzing every inch of my body as if time has frozen except for this moment we share. Her scent, I notice is stronger than ever.

_[I want so much to open your eyes  
><em>'_Cause I need you to look into mine]_

"Don't," Beca murmurs, pulling down my hands to my sides. "You'll lose."

Absentmindedly, I nod. I'm melting to her touch, to her aroma, to everything about her and beyond. She has me on her fingertips, and she knows it. I quiver at her hands upon my shoulder sliding down gracefully to my chest, her soft lips expertly nibbling on the sensitive spots of my neck, tender and patient. My body is responding at its own accord - swallowing my sense of control, breathing out grateful moans until it's driving me crazy. I pull her face, hungry, so I can kiss her, just as slowly and gently. I resolve the feeling that this is all I need for the rest of my life.

I let her in, her tongue into my mouth, her hand underneath my shirt, her soul into my heart. I let her in without doubt or remorse. I don't regret the day I left Ben at the altar, or the night I walked away from my parents to follow my heart's desire. Being with Beca just like this makes me happy more than I could ever imagine. Someday they will understand. _Someday_, they will forgive me.

_[Tell me that you'll open your eyes]_

She breaks away from the kiss, giggling, just so she can tease me and see me grow sexually frustrated. Yes, I know her that well, and she knows me just the same. I quickly untie my blindfold; as the cloth drops on the floor, just like what Beca said, I realize I've already lost the game. I'm standing in the middle of the kitchen, all alone, without her; I see my reflection on the window glass - the dark circles around my bloodshot eyes and the tear slipping away remind me that I'm back to the present where Beca and I just don't seem to co-exist anymore. I look down at my trembling hands; the left one is bleeding and glasses are shattered on the floor. Clueless, I can't narrate what has happened here either.

Accordingly, I clean up the mess. I attend to my wound, a small cut, and affix around it a band-aid. By six o'clock in the evening, I'm all prep up for _World War Z _on _HBO _- not to watch or be engrossed by it, just to divert my thoughts from my troubled mind. I get the feeling that this will be a routine for me from this day forward. To break it on the very first day, however, the doorbell rings. A few hours after they left, I wonder why my friends have decided to return.

"Hi," Stacie greets me happily when I open the door. "You busy?"

This is getting kind of a drag quite honestly. I look away from her concerned gaze and push the door close. Stacie, though, is fast enough to stop it with her hand. I keep my eyes down, yet I can sense her dismay nonetheless.

"Chloe," she starts. "I'm trying to help you here. But you have to help yourself too, alright?"

"I told you everything I have to say. If you don't believe me, then I don't need you here. You are free to go and never come back. I don't care."

"_I _care."

"What do you want from me?"

"The bottle," she answers, and I shoot her a look. What does she want from the bottle? "You still have it, right? We need it."

"Why?"

"Because someone just changed his mind," she replies, cocking her head to the side, leading my sight to Stan who seems to be waiting for us inside his car. He glimpses at me then rolls back up the window. "A friend of a friend knows this woman who claims to have the ability to communicate with spirits or something. I think she can explain what this bottle is all about."

Listening to her explanation, I take a step out of the house, the first since Aubrey… died.

"Wait." Stacie blocks my way to my confusion. "There's a catch, Chloe. We are taking the bottle to her, _but_ nobody's going anywhere until you shower and eat something. You can sleep in the car."

I look at her vacantly. She appears to be victorious because she knows I will bite the bait, chew it if necessary. Okay, whatever. I'll do whatever it takes to get Beca back.

* * *

><p>My throbbing head signifies how much of a bad idea it always is to get drunk. Especially with Aubrey. I'm blaming her, by the way, for not letting any second pass by without a glass of alcohol in my hand. And I'm blaming her for ditching me last night. Or did I ditch her? I slap my hand on my forehead and exhale. I don't remember much from last night. Except for this one thing. I remember it pretty well - my <em>sin<em>.

It's not a fantasy or hallucination. I know it's real as I turn to my side to see Beca putting on her jeans. She's half-way through dressing up which means we're half-way through this one stupid mistake.

I guess she has sensed my prying eyes; we stare at each other for some time until the guilt is eating me alive. She too doesn't say anything. I wrap the covers around me as I climb out of bed, searching for every piece of clothing I used to be wearing when we got to her house. I'm not supposed to be here - not alone, not any time of the day, not naked. I bet she's thinking about the same thing right now. Should I at least say 'good morning' or just awkwardly march out of the door?

"Do you want some coffee?" I'm glad she spoke first. "Or Advil, whatever?"

I look around, kinda lost, seeking for _that_ item I just can't seem to locate. "Uh… have you seen my… uh… y-you know, my…"

"Oh," I'm relieve she gets it. She begins to search for it as well, flipping some things here and there until she found it among the sheets. She hands me over my panties in a humorously cautious manner. Well, it's not a bomb. "There."

"Thanks," I mutter back. Awkward. Everything is awkward, and I don't like it!

"Maybe I should just leave you for a minute, yeah?" she lets out a nervous laugh. It's so not her. Something's off. Well, of course, something is off. We just committed _the _mortal sin. A few days before my wedding. _That's right, Chloe. You're getting married. _To Ben. Not Beca.

"You can stay," my idiotic, sinful mouth blurt out when she's about to head for the door. I'm digging my own grave here, but there's something about watching her walk away that pains my chest.

Beca, I can tell, is startled. She narrows her eyes on me, questioningly. I know there are a million questions invading her brain just now. And we both know it would be much easier to pretend _this _never happened and carry on with our own separate lives. But somehow, we're choosing the more complicated path, the road less taken.

She sits on a chair while I get dress. Then I settle on the side of the bed, fidgeting my fingers, my engagement ring. We stay there in the room in complete silence, but I think I can hear her heart hardly breathing. It's suffocating, yet more carefree than I've ever been with Ben or anybody else. It's like heaven in its ugliest form. Still, it's heaven. With her.

"Look, Chloe, about last night, I'm sorry. I know you're getting married, and I don't want you thinking that I took advantage of-"

I make her stop immediately because I don't want her apologizing to me. We're equally at fault. No, in fact, _I'm_ the one with the fiance. When we both walk out of this room, go back out to the real world, it's not me who will end up alone with a broken heart. "It wasn't the alcohol. For me, it wasn't."

"Not even for me," she quietly replies.

"I'm the one who should be sorry."

She chuckles and peeks at me, her blue eyes penetrating my soul. "Last night, that's all of me. I know it's wrong the moment I kissed you, but I couldn't stop, not when I finally have you. And we both know how this is going to end, but I wanted to surrender every bit of me to you. Chloe, I-"

"Don't," I cut her off as soon as I can. I _cannot _let her finish that sentence. I know what she was about to say, and I can't hear it, not when I'm getting married in a few days. "Please don't say it. Beca, please."

My watery eyes synchronize with hers. We stare at each other for the longest time, crying, agonizing a menacing goodbye. Finally, she gives up, nodding her head as she flashes a bittersweet smile. "You break my heart everyday, Chloe Beale."

"I'm sorry," I blink more tears; my chest burns like hell.

She accepts my apology, leaves her seat, and turns her back on me. _No. _I watch her head for the door; it's like a movie scene in slow motion. I know if I let her go now, if I let her give me up now, I will never see her again. _Never._

And I can't live with that. Perhaps, I'm not thinking straight anymore. I jump on my feet and rush to her. I pull her by the arm and kiss her. I want her lips, her tongue, her hair, her face, her ears, her jaws, her neck, her chest, her waist… I want _her_, all of her.

"What are you doing?" she groans, but kisses me back anyway.

"I'm following my heart."

I kiss her again, and again, and again as we move to the bed. She pushes me down; I crave for her weight upon my body. With clear and sober minds, this is starting to be a thousand times better than last night. Better until my phone starts ringing. _Futurama. _I know it's mine because it's the ringtone I have assigned to Ben, my freaking _fiance. _Like a remote control, Beca automatically halts and moves away from me.

"It's like the tenth time he's called since seven," she murmurs, her eyes avoiding mine. "Answer it. He must be worried. Well, tell him there's no reason for that now."

My attention is split between the noisy phone like a ticking clock and Beca preparing to leave. She doesn't say goodbye, but I know it is. She walks out of the door, and I know it is. My heart shatters to the tune of the extended version of _Futurama _opening theme.

"We're here," announces Stacie. "This is the address."

I follow her gaze out the car window. We have pulled over at the entrance of a grubby old apartment where no person, not even a cat, should ever reside. It's almost nine-thirty, and we are about to enter a bat cave in the city. Do I really look that miserable now for these two to bring me all the way here just to prove that they're still on my side?

"Why now?" I ask when we stand by the front door. Stan in particular.

"We're running out of time, aren't we?" He refuse to look at me, but I sense the same misery that I've been feeling since Beca disappeared. "You're about to lose a wife, I get it. But I'm about to lose my sister, Chloe."

I feel ashamed. I never looked at it that way.

"Hi, excuse me." Stacie meets a guy on his way out. He's obviously under the influence of drugs judging by his physical state; he merely stumbles his way pass us and disappears to the corner of the street. "Okay, should we go in?"

"Keep close," Stan assures us some protection.

He pushes the door open and leads us in. As expected, the hallway is not as tidy as it should be. Stacie cringes at the foul smell coming somewhere. Even I who kept my sweatpants on for weeks fight the need to vomit at the unhealthy environment. We ascend the stairs up to the third floor. Relying on the address handwritten on a small piece of paper, we stop at Unit 29. Stan knocks on the dusty door; it creaks opens after a good five seconds. An Asian woman peeps through the small gap in between.

"We're looking for a Kimmy Jin."

She doesn't reply, or move at all.

"Oh, I know Chinese!" Stacie claims and pushes Stan to the side. "_Nin hao. Ni zhu zai zheli?_"

I'm impressed by her effort, but the woman appears to be Korean who speaks a completely different language. Regardless, the woman widens the opening to her abode.

"I was born in Portland," she says in fluent American accent.

"English, good." Stan shows her the address. "We're looking for Kimmy Jin. Do you know her?"

She glances at the bottle then to me. Deep inside, I panic because I feel like she knows who I am, what I've been through. She steps forward, moving towards me with an odd threatening stare that Stan has to stand in the way to protect me.

"You've seen death," she tells me.

"I-I was in a car accident."

"No," she shakes her head strongly. "You've been dead."

"Okay, that's enough." Stan glares at the woman. "Don't talk about her like that, alright? If you don't know Kimmy Jin, then we'll be on our way. Thank you for your time, good night."

Infuriated, he leads me and Stacie away from the unit. But I'm curious. I'm desperate to hear what she knows about me, about Beca, the memories in my head that I cannot explain. I get away from Stan's grip and return to the woman. I show her the bottle and tell her everything I know about Beca. I want her to help me find her in any way possible.

"You have to go back," she offers a confusing answer. "Go back to the Limbo."

_Limbo? _But I've never been there. Never heard of it, in fact.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Song: <strong>Open Your Eyes - Snow Patrol _

_**A/N:** Okay, writing that part with Beca and Chloe in the bedroom is just so heartbreaking I had to take a few days off from this story. By the way, the next chapter is the last._


	11. Forever

_**Guest **(Dec 23): Snow Patrol's my favorite. :)_

**_Guest_**_ (Dec 19), **BeChloeFan01**: Hurts like hell, right?_

**_cricket:_**_ To give room for another story. :)_

**_RicchanxMio: _**_So is this story. It's so confusing. LOL._

_**Guest **(Dec 15): I'm sorry, but I'm not going to write a sequel. It's just that I feel resolved with the ending already._

**_avidreader:_**_ When you put it that way, I feel the pressure._

**_Guest _**_(Dec 15): It's a toss between Futurama and Adventure Time. LOL_

**_Guestttt:_**_ I can assure you it's not Lilly. If you remember, although implied, she was mentioned to be in the Limbo in the early chapters. She was one of the contenders for the Welcome Party job along with Rem and Bumper._

_**A/N: **This is the shortest multi-chapter story I've written so far, yet it's the most complicated. LOL. I know most of the times, it's kind of difficult to follow, so I just want to say thank you for sticking around until the very last chapter. I absolutely had fun torturing you- I mean, writing this story. Til the next adventure, crickets! :) Oh and it's written in one go. No borders. Hope it doesn't confuse so much._

* * *

><p>CHAPTER TEN: <strong>Forever<strong>

"You are Kimmy Jin."

Stacie shows to our hostess the picture of a certain Korean woman displayed on her phone screen. She has googled the name for the sake of evidence. A bunch of articles have been listed on the search engine for our perusal. I borrow the phone from my friend to scan through for my own peace of mind.

'_Dead woman found alive'_

_ 'Chicago haunted'_

_ 'Zombie Woman: Still missing!'_

All these articles pertain to Kimmy Jin, a twenty-seven year old woman who got killed in a bank robbery in Chicago, Illinois two weeks ago. She obtained a headshot wound which led to her untimely death. However, as if a miracle, she woke up in the morgue and then mysteriously fled town. I stare at the picture on the screen then to the woman sitting across the table; they are the same. She has to be Kimmy Jin.

"I am not Kimmy Jin," she further insists though.

Stan slams his hand on the dining table, not caring for a second that it's the woman's home in the first place and we are mere uninvited guests. He's obviously frustrated now. "Look, just tell us the truth. We don't have time to play games with you, okay? So, the girl in this picture, is this Kimmy Jin?"

"Yes."

"Next question: Are you and the girl in this picture one and the same?"

She hesitates for a moment, processing the question intensely so as to arrive at the best answer. "It's the same body, yes."

"So you are Kimmy Jin."

"No," she answers firmly.

"Then who are you?" Stan is already shouting, angry with this conversation that doesn't seem to be going anywhere relevant and necessary. I can understand his fury. It's been roughly a couple of hours, and we're still on the first step of this whole long journey. "Just tell us where Kimmy Jin is, and we'll leave you alone."

"Kimmy Jin is dead," the woman reveals. I look at her, and I know she's telling the truth. "Her time was up. I do not know who I am. I just know I exist. As a human being. Alive. An element of the physical world."

"You said you're from Portland," Stacie points out.

"That is what I retrieve from the memories I have."

"What do you mean?"

She gives us an ignorant shrug. It's not helping our cause at all.

"Fine." Stan takes the rose-in-a-bottle and sets it right in front of the woman. "Forget about Kimmy Jin. Do you know what that is?"

Her eyes light up again at the sight of the bottle, _craving_ for whatever it might offer to her like some mad scientist. Bizarre. "Memories… so many memories… so many of them…"

"Memories?"

Without warning, she eagerly moves supposedly to grab the bottle for her keeping. Stacie and I panic because it's our only chance to finding Beca; if she breaks it or take it away from us, then we might as well kiss our dying hope goodbye. Luckily, Stan has been fast enough to seize the mysterious container. _Why? _Why does she have that much interest? It's not just me who's noticed this anomaly.

"If you can tell us what this is all about, then maybe we can all be friends."

She stares at the bottle for a good five seconds, probably considering Stan's offer. Then, out of the blue, she shifts her gaze to my direction, knowingly, completely sure about what she's about to suggest. "Why don't you ask her?"

I receive my friends' questioning scowls. My mouth stammers without words to convey my bewilderment. I have no idea what this woman is talking about!

"Chloe, right?" The three of us grow anxious when she mentions my name. We never told her _our _names! How did she know who I am? She's getting creepier every minute we spend with her. Maybe going inside her unit is not a good idea after all. "You don't remember me, do you?"

_What? Have I met her before?_

"You were the biggest fish in the water," she wears a big grin I'm scared. She seems to be getting more and more interested in me. For some reason, I feel like she wants to feed on me, eat all of me. Her body is moving, I'm backing away, and Stan is on alert. "Now you have more memories than ever. They're all so vivid, playing in your head over and over, aren't they? Losing someone who completes you, you are now living in your memories. You _are_ the biggest fish this water has ever known."

She has her hands prop against the table as if she would jump at me anytime. That's when we notice her pale odd skin and the strange appearance of her nails - it's like she's decaying!

"Just because you are back in this world does not mean you are safe forever and ever."

A long piercing scream explodes inside my brain. I have my hands up on my head, hoping to contain it. My eyes are shut tightly close; my hands squeeze my head as the scream drives me nuts; I'm down on my knees. _What's happening?_

"Chloe!" Stacie hurries to my aid. "Chloe, are you alright? What's wrong?"

I can barely talk. I can barely think. I just want this wailing banshee to stop. "Make it stop, _please_. Make it stop!"

"What, Chloe? What is it?"

"The scream!" I yell out. Then the high-pitched screech gets louder I yelp in pain. "Make it stop, Stacie!"

"But I don't hear anything. Chloe, nobody's screaming."

"What did you do to her?" Stan's fuming voice echoes into my ears. I can make out through my blurry vision his shadow confronting the woman. "Stop it already! Stop it now!"

I hear her laugh while my mind is crowded with a rush of old memories and others I can't recognize, the dreams and the nightmares altogether. I close my eyes again in fear but I still see her, face-to-face, grinning at me mockingly. She's literally inside my head!

"Get out!" I shriek through my nausea. "Get out of my head!"

"Chloe…" Stacie is trying to calm me down, but it's no use. I'm already vulnerable to this woman's power, whatever it is. "What's going on?"

"Let me remind you of what I am, Chloe."

Then the lights flicker rapidly until the glass shatters, enclosing the room into a complete blackness. The screaming has gone too; now I can hear myself panting heavily. The entire room has fallen silent, except from mine and my friends' own anxious breathing.

"Anybody okay?" asks Stan, and Stacie answers for us both. "Good. Just stay where you are. I'm coming for you two, then we're leaving."

"The bottle," I am suddenly reminded.

The delay in Stan's response gives away the fact that he no longer has the bottle, which can only mean that the woman has stolen it. Startling us a bit, lights coming from an unknown source begin to flicker once more. The room is already empty but our presence. Stan easily spots us amidst a seizure-inducing circumstance. He starts walking towards me and Stacie as cautiously as possible.

"Stan, the bottle," I told him.

"We have to leave."

"No! We're not leaving without the bottle. Stacie, tell him!"

But I find the reluctance on her face as well. "Sorry, Chloe, but I'm taking Stan's side on this one. That woman is freaking crazy!"

"Then I'm staying," I declare. I'm not leaving without answers. I won't leave 'til I get Beca back.

"What? No! Who knows what she's going to do next?"

Like an answered prayer, the flickering lights turn into a blinding radiance - white beam in a million refraction. There's a sudden whoosh of wind followed by black smoke that fills the entire premises. It's cold and it's cruel; it's like a tornado spinning rapidly like a top. Then it starts to suck my friends away from me like a vacuum, so the black smoke can trap me at its heart where I am weak and defenseless. The piercing scream comes back along with the painful rush of memories. I fall on my knees, forced to endure the torture.

"Stop!" I beg for mercy. "Stop it! Please!"

And it does, thank god. But I'm all alone. Stan and Stacie. I have no idea where they are.

"Do you remember me now?" I hear the woman whisper. So eerie; it's like she's whispering right into my ears. "Do you remember my kind now, Chloe?"

Stabilizing my breathing, I'm suddenly looking up to her physical self standing right in front of me. "You're a Soul Hunter."

"I knew you'd remember," she grins widely.

But I'm really confused. I don't know why I've said that, let alone where I've gotten the idea. She offers a hand - she doesn't seem to be that bad at all - and I try to hold on to it, but I _can't. _It's as if I'm trying to touch the wind in the atmosphere.

"Your friends will have to stay in the physical world," is what she explains instead. "They do not belong here _yet_."

"And here is where?" I question as soon as I get back up on my feet.

"Here is what is in between."

Riddles, more riddles.

"I can help you," she proposes. Something about her tells me it won't be a generous offer. "You can help me. We can help each other out."

"How?"

"What else do you recall from the Limbo?"

I shake my head for emphasis, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"But you do remember I'm a Soul Hunter."

"I don't," I admit. "The thing just spit out of my mouth."

"You also remember Beca when it is not possible to retrieve any memories from the Limbo." She speaks to me as if she's certain that I've been there, in the Limbo, with Beca, and that my wife is left behind that unheard location. I'm all ears now; my entire being is completely engrossed into what this woman has about to say about this one. "If you want to reach her, you must go back there. But she will certainly not remember who you are."

"So she's alive."

"No," she dismisses my hypothesis so surely. "You will find her soul. And in Limbo, it will stay for eternity. You should know. You _have_ known."

I hold up a hand to signal my utter confusion. "Look, I just want to get her back."

"You will never get her back."

There, she has just crushed my own soul with a single frank sentence. Of all the things she has told us, this is the most honest; this is what I believe the most. And it's heart-wrenching. The expression on her face proves that she's just as cold and cruel as the black smoke that she really is.

"Take me to her," I demand. For now, I just really need to see her again, to exist in the same universe as she is again. No matter what it takes.

"You need to surrender me your memories until you are almost empty."

_So be it. _I spread my arms wide to yield to her demand. No, I don't have anything to lose now anyway. For the past weeks, I have been mostly an empty tank. Surrendering my memories to this creature won't make any difference at all, except from a better chance to see the love of my life again.

The woman puts on a smirk and the wind blows around us angrily. i fight the urge to be taken by the tornado-like threat while I watch her stand in position so calmly. Her body though, bit by bit, detaches away to form black smoke. Then, I feel myself lose control of my own; my feet lift up, rising from the ground, as the strange woman finally disappears into her true self. In a quick violent tremor, the black smoke penetrates my mind, sucking in every little memory I have, and I'm defenseless. I simply hang in midair struggling helplessly in pain. Everything turns black after that.

I wake up, gasping for air. It feels like drowning at first until I find myself standing in the middle of a room I have never been before. At least that's what I recall. But turning around, I see myself, another me, clad in a wedding gown, staring at her reflection on a full-length stand alone mirror. She doesn't seem to notice my presence; my reflection does not appear on the mirror where it should have.

Curious, I walk closer - a dozen inches from where she stands - to have a better look. She's getting married. She has the most gorgeous gown I've ever seen, the perfect hair and makeup, and a bridal bouquet of lilies of the valley to complete the attire. But I look at her and somehow I know something is wrong. After all, we are one and the same. There's something missing, the most important of them all - her smile.

"Chloe, you ready?"

We both turn our heads towards the door where a blonde woman, the Maid of Honor, sneaks in; she's out of breath; the stress of the job has probably taken its toll. Neither of them still seem to have noticed my existence much to my horror. More so, blondie unbelievably walks pass through me, as if I'm a ghost, to reach the bride.

"Everything's set," she informs the other. "You go to your spot then we start in a few minutes."

Chloe, however, is not responding the way she should be for a very special day like her own wedding. She's awfully… depressed. "Aubrey?"

"Yes?"

"I have to do this, right?"

Aubrey sighs and clicks her tongue. She's figured out the problem. "No. Not if you're not happy."

"I am happy," the bride flashes her best smile. It doesn't matter, however. It's not even convincing anymore, not even for a benefit of the doubt.

"Beca's skipping the wedding." Just the mere mention of the name affected the redhead. So as me. "I've been trying to call her since yesterday, but she's out of the radar. Her office won't give me her schedule or anything. Bitches."

"Did you ask her brother?"

"He's covering up for her, of course."

"She's gone," concludes the other. "We won't see her ever again."

Aubrey shakes her head and takes away the bridal bouquet to remove it out of the way. She holds the redhead's hands and looks straight into her eyes. "Listen to me, Chloe. I know I'm your Maid of Honor today and that part of my duties is to make sure you get out of that door, walk down the aisle and marry _the _guy in front of the hundreds of guests. But more than that, I _am _your best friend... 'till death do us part and beyond... and my job here includes that I talk you out of this wedding. Chloe, this is not what you want. Ben is not who you love."

"Do you think he would ever forgive me?" my other self asks her best friend.

A cloud of black smoke comes in to fill the scene out of my sight. I am reminded of what's happening. _No,_ not this memory. I can't let her have this memory. This is the day I chose Beca! I scream for mercy, but the smoke keeps on blending in.

"Surrender your memories," the eerie voice rings in my ears, causing me unbearable pain.

The next thing I wake up I'm at a candy store. A group of triplets have come running through my intangible body; their parents chasing them behind. To them, I am nothing but an invisible puff of air. I turn my body around to follow their paths and see myself once more; the kids have knocked her down and so are the pack of candies she was carrying. I hurry to help her, but a certain brunette beats me to it.

"Beca," I call out of her name yet her attention is all on the other me.

This memory, I've memorized this by heart. This is the moment we first laid our eyes on each other. Beca will give me a hand with the candies; she will chip in a joke, and I will laugh regardless of how corny it is; we will introduce ourselves then head for lunch at a sushi bar… I know all these and the rest of history because it's all I have of her. No, I can't let anybody take these memories away from me. But as I run to Beca and grab her arm, I see the Soul Hunter in her stead.

"You agreed to give up your memories," she hisses at me with the tongue of a snake.

By the time I'm about to open my mouth to respond, I am sweep into another memory. I find the other me sitting by the doorstep of someone else's house. She looks tired and all, like she's been camping out here overnight.

"Chloe?" Beca walks past my ghost-like body. "What are you doing here?"

"I didn't want to miss your arrival," mutter the other.

"What? Are you crazy?"

"Yes! Maybe I am."

The brunette heaves out a deep sigh at the remarks of the old me. "You should go home, Chloe."

"No!" insists the redhead. "We have to talk about this. It's driving me mad, Beca. Everytime I close my eyes, it's playing in my mind over and over."

"You're with Ben now. It doesn't matter."

"Well, how you feel about me, it does matter."

"Just forget about it." Beca fishes her keys out of her bag and begins to unlock the door. "I didn't even mean for you to know about it so, why don't we both pretend it never happened or that it's only a terrible nightmare to forget, yeah? Besides, it's just feelings. Who knows, Chloe? Maybe tomorrow it'll go away. Maybe it's just some stupid infatuation after all. I'll get over you soon, alright?"

"But I don't want you to get over me."

The brunette freezes. Everything goes quiet for a minute or so, except from two hearts beating as one. I stand there in anticipation as their eyes meet.

"So if tomorrow it'll go away," Chloe speaks, "Can I hear it from you again today? For as many times as you can say it."

Those dark blue eyes soften at the plea. Before the scene could play on any further, the black smoke snatches the memory away from me. I am coerced to walk down the memory lane - from one memory to another - and, without a choice, watch them get stolen.

The Soul Hunter is so unfair, I have decided. She's selectively taking my memories of Beca, the biggest chunk of them all. Soon, my grasp on her identity evanesce.

"Wake up, Chloe."

I flutter my eyes open to see a pair of hazel greens staring down at me. I blink several times to fix my blurry vision. It's a woman I've never seen before - the tips of her blonde hair, fascinatingly, are painted with all possible hair color you'd think someone simply splash the color wheel into her strands.

"Can you stand on your own?"

"Where am I?" I ignore her query to post my own now that I realize I'm in a dark forest, _lost _in a dark forest with a stranger mysteriously appearing beside me. "Who are you?"

"Here." Equip with a burning torch in one hand, she holds up a twig I can grab on to help me stand on my feet. "It's me, idiot, Rem."

The name doesn't ring a bell, but she speaks to me as if we're close friends.

"How can you make a deal with a Soul Hunter?" she chides. "You're not even supposed to get here yet! You have three days, remember? And she told you to wait for her, didn't she? So you should have known better than come barging in here!"

"I… I-I don't understand..."

She checks my eyes. "This is bad. _Really _bad, Chloe. Your memories, they're almost gone. They were taken while a part of you is human. That could do permanent damage."

"Permanent damage?"

"Where on hell is that shorty?" There's a hint of urgency in her voice like this is some sort of an emergency. "She has to revive you immediately before the Timekeeper realizes you're time has paused. It would know you're here."

"Put the fire out!"

We turn to the side to see a brunette rushing towards us. The torch suddenly disappears from Rem's grip as the other stranger reaches our spot. By now, there's only so much I can make out of the blackness. None of us say a word nor breathe out loud. Before long, a levitating silver ball of electric lights hovers around the nearby surrounding like a police patrol. I can sense the anxiousness in the unsteady breathing of my two companions, I wonder what the light is.

"How did the appeal go?" Rem asks the brunette as soon as the coast is clear. The torch is back in her possession. "Was it suspicious?"

"I ran out as soon as I got your signal," replies the other. Then, she turns to me, a shy smile plastered on her lips. "Hi."

I'm stumped. I have no idea who she is.

"She doesn't remember you," blondie explains my condition to her. "We have to retrieve her memories from the Soul Hunter that stole them in order to execute the restoration. But we don't have time for that, Beca."

"Beca," I repeat the name. It sounds so familiar. Even my soul agrees, calming to her presence.

She walks up to me and gives me this intense look I'm drawn to her. "I will neither live nor die. I'm sorry I can't give you what you wanted, Chloe. Aubrey told me everything before she made the cross. Now I don't know how long I can keep these memories, but I will be here. We might not remember each other the next time we meet, but I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here waiting for you."

"Beca," I say her name again. Something inside me stirs I can't explain. It's like I just want to burst out crying and embrace her until the end of time.

"You have to revive her now," Rem quietly interrupts.

"Okay," Beca nods. "Close your eyes, Chloe."

But before I could, a cloud of black smoke swoosh around us; the fire on the torch dies out from the strength of the wind. Again, we find ourselves in the middle of darkness.

"Give her back her memories!" I hear Rem's furious voice shouting at the top of her lungs. "Take mine instead! I remember everything, all of them!"

I can't make out what the smoke has done to her, but her screams soon infiltrates the atmosphere.

"Rem, no!"

But the smoke grows stronger and her screams louder.

"Close your eyes and count one to ten," Beca instructs me once more. "No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, just keep your eyes shut until 'ten', you understand?"

"But Rem-"

"Just do it, Chloe."

She leaves my side to help the other. I am left with no other choice but to give in to the command. I close my eyes and start to count ten. _One_… _Two… _I can still hear Rem's shrieks… _Three… Four… _I feel a vibration all over my soul… _Five… Six… _The cruel winds have knocked me down… _Seven… _Everythings starts to subside… _Eight… _Things have become eerily silent… _Nine… Ten…_

I open my eyes. I'm still in the grubby old apartment; Stacie and Stan are lying unconscious on the floor; The creepy woman is no longer in sight. As I crawl to my friends' aid, I slap a hand over my forehead - headache. It feels like I just woke up from a bad dream. The best part though is meeting Beca again. And it feels so real.

The three of us left the unit, hop into the car and drive back home. Nobody dares to start a conversation about our chronicle. Speechless, we have agreed to never mention the encounter ever again. It's past midnight when they drop me off my house. We exchange obligatory good nights and they promise to visit me in the morning. I respond with a small nod. I enter the house and lock the door behind. I'm all alone again.

Exhausted, I drag myself up the stairs, kicking my shoes along the way. I walk into the bedroom and flop into the bed. It's been three days, three whole days of emptiness. I'm just freaking tired already.

I look over to my side; an image from our wedding is displayed on a frame where Beca is smiling at the lens, at me directly. I reach for it with my frail trembling hands - come on, feeble body, just a little bit longer and I'm letting you take over. Lying on my back, I stare at the picture. Like magic, I can hear our laughters, her jokes, the favorite songs we play on the radio when we cruise to nowhere.

_[Loving can heal, loving can mend your soul  
><em>_And it's the only thing that I know, know]_

Reminiscing all the times we spent together, I smile to myself. My mind serves as a perpetual visual album where our love story can live on. The images pan inside my brain, and I've never been any more satisfied this past weeks. It's like I can close my eyes and I can be with her again.

_[I swear it will get easier  
><em>_Remember that with every piece of you  
><em>_And it's the only thing we take with us when we die]_

The morning has come, and I feel different. I get out of bed and head downstairs for a mandatory breakfast, but I stop by the hallway when I notice the front door open; a brunette is sitting on my doorstep, waiting. I know who it is, that slouchy back a giveaway. Of course I'm drawn to her like a magnet.

_[We keep this love in a photograph  
><em>_We made these memories for ourselves  
><em>_Where our eyes are never closing  
><em>_Hearts are never broken  
><em>_And time's frozen still]_

I should question her unlikely presence, but I don't. Nobody should question a miracle. So I sit beside her; Her eyes are glued to me and so is the smile on her face. She then lets out a chuckle, and I follow suit. Funny, is this how everything would end? 'Cause I won't mind.

_[So you can keep me  
><em>_Inside the pocket of your ripped jeans  
><em>_Holding me closer 'til our eyes meet  
><em>_You won't ever be alone]_

"The Gatekeeper is hiring a new Welcome Party," she says. "Perks include prolonged stay in the Limbo."

I get what she's trying to point out here. "I might be interested."

"So," she deliberately coughs and offers a hand.

I take it without a doubt. Grinning, I pull her face for a kiss - she has no idea how long I've waited to do it again. I remember the sensation, the taste of it, the sparks everywhere. I squeeze her hand and meet those blue orbs. We finally co-exist.

_[And if you hurt me, that's okay baby, only words bleed  
><em>_Inside these pages you just hold me  
><em>_And I won't ever let you go  
><em>_Wait for me to come home]_

"How's the potato clock?" starts our endless conversations. I scoff at her silliness as we stay seated right on the doorstep; She bombards me with her terrible jokes, but I laugh anyway and sigh delightfully. _This _is where our forever commences; I couldn't ask for more.

**the end.**

* * *

><p><em>Are they finally reunited? Is it just a dream? A hallucination? I'm leaving it to you. <strong>Merry Christmas, crickets! And happy new year! :)<strong>_

_**Song: **__Photograph - Ed Sheeran_


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